The Fears of a Prince
by Minimatt
Summary: Legolas feels unwanted. Thranduil doesn't show his love, and Legolas' brother isn't really helping him. Will the crown prince of Mirkwood manage to overcome his fears? Will he be able to stand up against his brother and his father? Futhermore, will the Crown Prince of Mirkwood ever be able to fulfill his duties? pre-WOTR, non-slash
1. A Dislocated Shoulder

**A/N: This story is something I had been wondering about for a few weeks/months. The inspiration comes from reading many LOTR-fics, specifically the ones that are about a young/uncertain Legolas. The main inspiration source for this story was 'The truth behind those sad eyes' (see my profile favourite stories for the link). I'm not sure about the actual plotline, but I have planned several chapters ahead already and I've written a few more parts. I don't think I will be updating this story a lot, seeing that school is taking it's toll on my amount of free time now. On that account, any updates for my other stories will take a while. I'm not sure where to go with Prodigy, and I think A Small Step needs a total rewrite. I won't stop writing on them, however, so I will post updates (eventually).**

**I hope my style of writing gets easier to read with every passing chapter. It makes it easier for me to know that you aren't struggling to get through the first chapter of any fic I write. Please post any comments about my writing style/grammar. Reviews are appreciated, as always.**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings Franchise is not mine. All the recognisable characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. The ones that you do not recognise from either the books or the films are mine.**

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The Fears of a Prince - Chapter 1

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Legolas looked into the mirror to see if he was presentable. A small, slender elf looked back at him. Unusually slender, even for an elf, he was. The ignored the long, soft blond hair that fell around his head in long locks, and he paid no attention to the big blue eyes that gazed straight back at him. He sighed. He was unusually small for an elf, like he was slender, and he would most likely not grow anymore. He wasn't really close to reaching maturity at fifteen hundred years of age, but he had stopped growing much quite a while ago. And with only six-hundred years to go until his maturity, he wouldn't grow a lot. Alas, that was the way of the elven growth. He hated it. He hated being smaller than everyone his age.

He sighed again as he watched himself further. He was wearing a green garb, much like the garbs of the patrolling warriors but this one with golden leaves embroidered on the shoulders. This garb had been made for him by the weavers who had done their best to create something that would fit the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, but they hadn't exactly succeeded. The cloth still hung around him like it was several sizes too big for the slender elf, though it wasn't as much as with his usual clothes.

Legolas winced as he remembered how much his ada, his father, always fussed over his clothes, especially around council meetings. He would insist that Legolas grow more, so that he would fill his clothes. But that was not something that he could control, so Legolas remained clothed in oversized tunics and leggings which required belts to be held up.

Legolas tore himself out of his reverie and shook the memories away. He had to think logically, not emotionally. He was going to the council meeting, to join in on the talks over the strategies regarding Mirkwood, and the continuous assault from orcs and spiders that threatened the Forest Kingdom. He was going to have to appear composed, rational and calm. Emotions could not cloud the judgement of a Prince, especially not in times as these.

Legolas left the room, preparing himself for the meeting. He knew what it was like out there, in the wilds, where the patrols fought against the orcs and spiders. He had been on several patrols himself already. Every male elf aged eight-hundred years or over was obliged to go on a patrol at least once a year. Such a patrol took one week exactly, in which the patrolling elves were left to their own devices against the orcs and spiders.

But where most of the other elves, the ones that were not warriors at least, had only one patrol per year, Legolas had already had fifteen. The year was far into passing, yes, for it was autumn already, but only the most seasoned warriors had had more patrols this year than the young Prince.

* * *

Legolas walked through the torch-lit hallways of Mirkwood's underground palace as he made his way to his father's council room. He had only just returned from his last patrol this morning, and had spent a part of the morning with the healers. He had dislocated his shoulder on the last day of the patrol, and the healers had set it for him.

They had, of course, asked him how he had obtained that dislocated shoulder, but he had been reluctant to tell the truth. It was quite shameful, to dislocate ones shoulder in such a way as he had had.

* * *

On the last day of their patrol, Legolas and his group had made their way towards one of the main paths that led through Mirkwood. They had sent Legolas out as a scout, for he was the smallest elf and the most agile. He could move through the forest unheard; even by elven standards he was very stealthy.

He had stumbled on an spider's nest, complete with spiders and all, from the treetops he moved through. He had observed them initially for quite a while, counting only one old spider in the large webs. He had taken his bow and arrows, to kill the spider from the distance.

But his first arrow failed to kill the spider, embedding itself in the head of the grotesque animal without doing lethal damage. The large beast had begun trashing around, racing the webs that spanned between the trees like it was possessed. After missing the creature multiple times, Legolas decided that it was useless to try and kill the animal using his bow, it was simply moving far too fast and erratic for him to get a good shot.

He had climbed down from his treetop, pulling his twin blades to end the creature's life from up close. As soon as he entered the webs, however, the trashing spider stood unnervingly still. It turned around, looking directly at Legolas with his eight large eyes, spooking the small elf. Legolas tumbled backwards, finding his feet and ankle spun over with thick strands of the silky spider web.

He had grabbed his blades and sliced around him as much as possible, trying to rid himself from the webs that were spun around him, but the strands came to fast. He noticed two other spiders, hidden in the shadow of the trees, that were spewing their trapping webs at him faster than he could slice them away. Before long, the unfortunate elf was spun in a tight cocoon of webs, twin blades useless for they were spun in thick strands of web. His bow and arrows were on the elf's back, out of his reach, for he had put them back there when he went to kill the wounded old spider.

The rest of the patrol had stumbled on the spider's nest not much later, and by that time Legolas had coerced the tree that was holding the cocoon with the elf so far as to drop him. Legolas was usually good in communicating with trees, but this tree was far away from the protected parts of the forest, and had fallen under the darkness quite a while ago. It had been corrupted on the inside, and the elvish words had initially fallen on deaf ears with the tree.

Just when the rest of the patrol had killed the spiders effortlessly, the tree had dropped the slender elf from its branch. The fall was from quite high, and Legolas was unable to catch himself from falling. He had landed painfully on his shoulder, dislocating it, causing him to cry out.

The patrol had reached Mirkwood palace several hours later. Legolas had made his way to the healers deeply ashamed, for it was considered a shame when one was injured by a spider when on a patrol.

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Right now, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood was in front of his father's council rooms, gathering up courage to enter. Inside, he would have to face his father and his councillors. He breathed deeply, knocked, and opened the door.

"Legolas, how nice of you to join us today." Thranduil said as he saw his son enter.

"I'm sorry I was later, ada_._" Legolas said, not wanting to specify why he was late. It was bad enough as it was that his patrol knew that he had been bested by a few spiders. At least they had the respect for their prince to keep their mouths shut.

"Why are you late?" Thranduil asked, seeing through the plan of his son.

"I had dislocated my shoulder when we found a spider's nest on the latest patrol, father. It has been set by the healers only a short while ago." Legolas said, deciding that throwing everything out in the open was the best course of action. At least they couldn't accuse him of dishonesty this way.

"How has the Prince of Mirkwood dislocated his shoulder?"

"I was scouting for the patrol when I found a spider's nest. There was only one spider visible, and I sensed no other spiders nearby. I shot it with my bow, but the shot did not kill it. It was moving too fast to hit with my bow, so I tried to kill it with my blade."

"Legolas, hurry up please, I do not have all day to wait for your tardiness."

"I'm sorry, ada." Legolas said quicky. "As soon as I neared the spider, I was trapped from behind by two other spiders. They overwhelmed me and they spun their threads around me before they hung me off a branch. The trees there are corrupted by darkness, so it took some time before I had coerced the tree that was holding me to drop me. But unfortunately, the fall was longer than I had expected, and thus I dislocated my shoulder."

"It seems to me that you were foolish, Legolas. Is it not considered a shame when wounded while fighting something as trivial as spiders?" Thranduil asked his son, contempt obvious in his voice. "Shouldn't the Crown Prince of Mirkwood be able to fight spiders on his own?"

"I'm sorry, ada." Legolas said softly, ashamed of his own stupidity.

"You have disgraced me, Legolas. Now sit down." Thranduil said, unaware of the effect his harsh words had on his son. He knew that Legolas was hurt, and that he was ashamed, but he couldn't let his son slack off just because he was the crown prince. The prince needed to be an example for all his people, and right now Legolas was not that. Thranduil knew full well that the prince was timid and shy, and he was trying to change that. He needed Legolas to be strong and tough, and he was trying to do that by being colder to his son. A cold shoulder would certainly work to toughen him up, to make him strong. The skies of Middle Earth are made for the sharp eyes and claws of a hawk, not for the soft eyes of a dove.

Thranduil decided to give his son some time to ponder over his current situation by starting the meeting at the subject the furthest away from Legolas' interest. He did not consider himself a bad parent, but he needed to teach his son how to behave as a prince.

Over time, the meeting drifted closer towards Legolas' subject, the latest reports of the patrols.

"Legolas, what are your findings about the latest movements of orcs and spiders in the south?" Thranduil asked his son.

"The orcs seem to multiply by the day. They spread increasingly further from their caves in the south, and they reach further north in larger groups as we speak. The patrols can still defend us from their attacks, but I do not know how much longer they'll hold."

"And the spiders?"

"The spiders seem to place their nests further and further north with each passing season. The patrols are still able to destroy all the nests, but I do not know how much longer we can maintain this kind of vigilance against the ever-increasing attacks."

"Prince Legolas," councillor Ardhel, one of the most influential councillors in Mirkwood, started, "how many orcs do you estimate there to be within the territory patrolled by us on an average day?"

"I do not know, but..."

"Do you not know?" Ardhel interrupted the Prince.

"No, my lord, I..."

"Have you not returned only this morning with a patrol?" Ardhel interrupted Legolas again. "Should you not know how many orcs and spiders there are out there?"

"There are roughly fifty orcs in our patrolled territory, I estimate, as well as twenty spiders, my lord." Legolas said swiftly, interrupting Ardhel before he could speak of the shame Legolas was to his family.

"Legolas, you disappoint me. You know very well not to interrupt you superiors." Thranduil said harshly. Legolas needed to learn manners, this transgression was unusually bad for the prince. It was totally not befitting the behaviour of a crown prince to interrupt a councillor when in a meeting.

"But _ada_..."

"No! No more of your weak excuses. You will leave this meeting now, and you will not leave the castle until I have spoken with you. Now go." Thranduil sent his son away, oblivious to the shame it caused to the young one.

Legolas left the council room, closing the door softly behind him. He was not childish enough to slam doors. He was past that stage.

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"You're a disgrace to our family, Legolas." Aerolas said, startling Legolas.

Aerolas was Legolas' younger brother, though one would not guess him to be younger than his sibling. Aerolas was at least a full foot taller than Legolas, having already reached the same height as his ada, despite being two hundred years younger than Legolas. Aerolas was also a lot more muscled and stronger than Legolas, though he was not nearly as agile. Aerolas seemed to radiate a sense of power and might, much unlike Legolas, who only carried out a message of uncertainty and timidity.

Thranduil knew very well of the differences between his two sons. Aerolas was confident and proud, whereas Legolas was shy and timid in comparison. Aerolas was open and outgoing, Legolas was more introvert and closed. Legolas was the crown prince, and therefore the heir to the throne of Mirkwood, but Thranduil rather preferred Aerolas to have the throne. A leader needed to be strong and proud, and Aerolas was far stronger and prouder than Legolas. But Thranduil knew full well that Legolas was the one to obtain the throne after he had sailed, for Legolas was born first. It was the will of the Valar that Legolas had been born first, and their will had to be carried out.

Legolas looked startled into the dark blue eyes of his younger brother. He did not like to admit it, but he had to look up to see his brother's face. In fact, he had to look up at nearly every adult elf to see in their eyes, for he was far smaller than usual for an elf.

"Don't be sad, Legolas," Aerolas started, "You can't change that you were born as a failure."

The younger prince slammed his hand down on his brother's shoulder, eliciting a look of shock and pain on Legolas' face. Aerolas was strong, and he slammed down hard on Legolas' tender shoulder, the one that had been dislocated only hours before. Legolas managed to suppress a cry of pain, and he saw a disappointed look in his brother's eyes.

"Go pick on someone who does care, Aerolas." Legolas said coldly before moving away from under his brother's hand.

"Don't be angry with me, Legolas. I'm not the one who sends you on patrols to get you killed." Aerolas said, unable to keep the smirk of his face.

* * *

Legolas barely managed to hide his shock at the words of his brother. Was his father really sending him on patrols that much to have him killed? Did he really despise him that much? It was true that Legolas had been on a lot of patrols the last few years, with only one week of rest between each of them. Maybe his _ada_ really wanted him dead... Maybe he wasn't good enough to be an heir to the throne of Mirkwood. Maybe Aerolas was right. Maybe he was a failure, a disgrace to the family.

Legolas ran towards his room with tears in his eyes. He did not want to cry, for real princes didn't cry, but he wasn't sure if he could manage his tears. And he would not want to be seen crying in a hallway.

Legolas ran through the long hallways of the underground palace as swiftly as he could, to avoid being seem as much as possible. But there were servants doing their everyday jobs, and he could not avoid detection completely. Many servants looked up with a look of contempt in their eyes, for they shared the opinions of their king regarding the behaviour of Legolas. A weak ruler was a bad ruler, after all.

Legolas knew full well that the servants hated him for being a weakling. He knew they despised his weakness, his timidness and his frailty. He knew that he was a bad prince, and everyone in the palace agreed with him.

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Legolas reached his room, bolted inside and carefully closed the door. His room was large, and well-lit, despite being carved out of a rock. A large bed, much larger than the small elf would ever need, stood in the corner of the room. Legolas carefully moved towards the bed and curled up in the far corner. He was a disgrace, a failure, to the family and to Mirkwood. He had been one for as long as he could remember, and he would always be one.

Tears fell from the soft blue eyes as the lithe elf laid in the corner of the bed and the wall, trembling. Legolas fought hard to suppress the tears, for a real prince didn't cry, but he failed. He scolded himself for crying, and it made him feel even more unwanted than he already felt. He felt alone, with no one to care for him and no one to comfort him. He felt alone, without friends. He had not had any friend, for as long as he could remember.

Legolas had felt unwanted and unwelcome too, for as long as he could remember. Ever since he was born, his father had been distant and cold to him. The servants treated him with respect, for he was still a prince, but cold nonetheless.

Unbeknownst to Legolas, he was wanted, and he was loved. Thranduil was not heartless, and he loved his son despite his timidness and shyness. But he also knew that if he didn't watch out with Legolas that the prince would transform in an hypocrite, spoiled brat. He had seen it happen far too often with princes from neighbouring realms, that kings were overthrown by jealous princes who had been raised to think that they were better than everyone. A good king should be better than everyone, not just act like it. That was why Thranduil very rarely shoved his love to Legolas, out of fear for him turning into a brat.

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**A/N: And? Did you like it? Please review!**

**translations: Ada-father.  
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	2. A Small Ploy

**A/N: The plot thickens. Aerolas is shrewdly trying to play his father and Legolas. What are his plans and will he succeed in setting Legolas in bad light? **

**Reviews are welcome!**

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1. I do not own LOTR or any part of that franchise. I do own Aerolas and other OC's. The tree is mine too!**

**translations: Legolas-greenleaf, Aerolas-Air leaf? ada-father**

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"Ada_?" _Aerolas asked with a quivering voice.

"Yes, Aerolas?" Thranduil said, turning around to see his son enter his personal study. Aerolas looked distressed and near tears. That was quite unusual, for the youngest prince of Mirkwood was proud and confident of himself. He rarely showed any emotions, like a true prince should, so if he was near tears now something terrible must have happened. And while Aerolas acted mature, more so than Legolas usually did, around others, but Thranduil knew that Aerolas was still only an elfling. Elflings shouldn't need to cope with terrible things.

"Do you hate me?" He asked with tears in his eyes.

"No! Who told you such a ridiculous thing?"

"No... I don't want to tell..." Aerolas asked with a sniff.

"You can tell me, Aerolas."

"No! He'll hurt me!"

"Who will hurt you? You can tell me!" Thranduil asked.

"Legolas." Aerolas said very softly, as if he were afraid of his older brother.

"What!"

"He said that you hated me." Aerolas said very softly, as if he were expecting his father to be angry.

"When did he say that?"

"After the council meeting."

"Do not worry, Aerolas. I will talk to Legolas about that. I will make sure he does not get away with such a thing. His actions will have consequences."

"Thank you, ada." Aerolas said when Thranduil left the room. If anyone would have looked at Aerolas at that moment, he would see a mean grin come to Aerolas' face.

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Thranduil made his way towards Legolas' room, his anger growing with every step. How did Legolas dare to take out his anger on Aerolas! It was understandable that he was angry after what had happened at the meeting, but he had no right to take it out on his younger brother! He had to be taught a lesson, for this was unacceptable. This kind of behaviour was not acceptable for a prince, and he would personally see to it that Legolas never did such a thing again.

It was only natural that Legolas would feel angered by what happened at the council meeting, but Legolas was not a young elfling anymore and should know how to cope with anger. He was a prince, so he was taught since a very early age that one was not to act on emotions. And he certainly had no right at all to vent it on his younger brother, who had done nothing to deserve such a thing. Aerolas behaved better than Legolas, certainly around others. Legolas behaved anti-social, avoiding conversations and confrontations with other elves. A true prince couldn't be afraid of others, because a prince was certain to spend his whole life surrounded by others.

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When Thranduil had reached Legolas' room, his anger at the slender elven prince had grown to a full-fledged rage.

"LEGOLAS!" Thranduil roared while slamming the door open.

Legolas had not heard his fathers angry footsteps, nor had he heard or sensed him coming in another way. Legolas had tried to calm down as soon as he had entered his room. He knew that a true prince was not to show any emotion, so he had been meditating to calm himself. The lithe elf had laid down on his bed and was deep in a trance. He was completely taken by surprise by the loud entrance of his father. He was shocked out of his trance, and sat up straight with a jump. Legolas sat on his bed, fear in his eyes for what his father would do to him. He knew that this was most likely Aerolas' work. His father had been angry at him during the council meeting, but not this angry.

"Legolas! Did you speak with Aerolas after the council meeting?" Thranduil yelled.

"Yes, Ada." Legolas said softly, not completely understanding why Thranduil was so angry at him.

"Did you say that I hated him?"

"No, ada..." Legolas started softly and with a sigh. This was definitely one of Aerolas' ploys to bring him in discredit with his father.

"Silence!" Thranduil bellowed, having ran out of patience with his eldest son a long time ago. "You are a disgrace to my family, my kingdom and all the elves race! You are not worthy of the title of prince! Your brother is a hundred times a better elf than you and you have no right to vent your anger on him! If this happens only one more time I will personally banish you from this Kingdom. You are ungrateful for everything that Aerolas and I have done for you since you and he were born! You are not worthy to be an elf. You will overthink your sins in your room, alone, for tonight. You will not leave the room until the morn of the day after tomorrow, is that understood? After that, you will serve on every patrol for the rest of the year!"

"Yes, ada." Legolas said softly. He knew it was pointless to convince Thranduil that Aerolas had lied, and that Aerolas should be the one punished, not him. He had seen it often enough, that Aerolas would manipulate someone to become angry at Legolas. Such a deceit was always well-planned, with intricate webs of lies and well-worded conversations. Legolas knew from experience that he could not talk himself out of it, especially not with his father. Legolas knew that his father hated him for simply existing.

"Tomorrow morn, you will apologise to Aerolas for everything you have said. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ada."

With a sound filled with disdain Thranduil left the room, leaving a shocked and depressed Legolas behind.

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Tears started to fall on the pale cheeks of the small elf, as he let his father's words sink in. He was a disgrace to his family, to his kingdom and to the entire elven race. He was a worthless fool, a waste of space. Maybe it was better if he just disappeared into the night. No one would care, no one would miss him. And maybe no one would even notice.

Legolas moved towards a window that was slightly open. It was not opened really wide, his father had made sure of that so that Legolas would have a harder time escaping, but just enough to squeeze his slender body between the window and the windowsill. Legolas stealthily snuck out of his room, over the roofs of the underground Elven palace, to the garden.

Legolas couldn't bring himself to care about the punishment if he was discovered out of his room. It was unlikely that anyone would try to enter his room until tomorrow noon. Showing concern for the oldest prince was usually thought of as strange, and it generally brought the one concerning himself over the fate of the prince in bad light with Thranduil and Aerolas, and consequently the whole of Mirkwood. Therefore, nobody concerned himself over the fate of the elder Mirkwood prince.

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In the palace gardens was Legolas' favourite tree. Legolas could communicate well with every tree, especially well even for an elf, and he had formed a friendship with many. But this one tree in particular had been his friend for as long as he lived. Ever since he was the smallest of elflings, Legolas had communicated with and talked to that tree. It was a very large, old oak. There were plenty of smaller branches below, in which Legolas had climbed when he was smaller, and there were massive, thick branches high up above. They protected anyone from view, which is partially why Legolas had preferred this tree over many others.

Many times, too many if it were up to the tree, Legolas had sought the tree for comfort. Countless times over the past years Legolas had climbed it's branches in search for someone that cared for him and looked out for him. Someone that would protect him with everything possible. The prince craved comfort and affection, for nobody in the palace ever showed him either of those two things.

Legolas snuck towards his old and only close friend with tears in his eyes. He climbed up to the spot he usually sat in when he needed comfort or protection. It was a comfortable, sheltered spot in the bough of a particularly large branch, where no one could find you unless he was on top of you.

The oak tree sensed Legolas' distress and immediately started whispering soothing words to him, a soft murmur in the back of Legolas' mind that assured him everything was fine. He reached his safe spot and curled up into the small cavity that had formed itself there from the regular use. The tree moved his branches to form a protective curtain around Legolas, which would shield him from the elements and from detection.

The small elf was thankful for all this, for he did not think a being such as him should deserve such a kind treatment. He started crying freely, hidden in the bough of the tree, not caring that it was very unprincelike of him. He tried to cry as soft and soundlessly as possible, for if anyone would hear his sniffs and sobs, they would find him and bring him back to the palace, to his father.


	3. Par and Var

**A/N: This is not a chapter that's very important to the plotline, nor is the next chapter, but I am quite proud for writing this because this chapter features the first discussion in all of my fanfics that sounds a bit intelligent at all. I hope I don't bore you all to death with this (quite unimportant) chapter. **

**The next few updates might take a while, I have a test week next week and I don't exactly know how much time and inspiration I'll have left after two boring tests each day. But I hope you like this chapter!**

**Reviews are welcome!

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Translations:

Ellith-female elves

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Legolas woke up the next morning with a stiff neck, courtesy of his awkward position in the bough of a branch in the oak tree. With a sudden shock he realised that he would be in serious trouble if someone – meaning his ada – found out that he hadn't been in his room since yesterday. He quickly looked around from his hidden position, only to find that it was still very early in the morn. The sun had only risen into the sky a few minutes ago, he estimated, and most elves wouldn't leave the palace until after breakfast.

But despite the very early time, there were two elves outside. Elvarion and Elparion, two brothers that were usually in Legolas' patrol, were standing directly underneath the large branch Legolas was sitting on. They were fine warriors, strong and noble, and while they had acted a bit indifferent to Legolas during the patrols, they hadn't been unfriendly. Legolas peered over the edge of the branch to listen in on what they were saying, having nothing better to do since they blocked his way of escape.

"Par, do you also think it strange that we get sent out on patrol far more often since the Prince has joined our patrol group?" Elvarion asked his brother.

"Yes, we have had far more patrols with fewer resting days in between since the prince has joined us. I personally think it is a bit annoying that we get sent out so often, but he is a prince."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, a prince will one day become a king, and a king must know his lands inside out. King Thranduil knows every path and every clearing in Mirkwood, so it is only logical that Legolas has to know the land too." Elparion said.

"But ada served on the king's patrol a long time ago, and I can't ever hear him telling stories that he was sent out every week, can you?"

"No, but I can't recall ada ever complaining about anything at all. Can you?" Elparion said.

"No, ada never complains about anything other than our mates." Elvarion said with a chuckle. "But I can't help but finding it a bit annoying that we rarely see our home. We are constantly on patrol or in the palace, resting. I mean, Legolas is a hard worker and he never complains, but it is still hard to ignore that we are sent out so much because of him."

"Yeah, I agree with you but I think we should be a bit more lenient towards him. I mean, we complain that we rarely see ada, but he only sees his in council meetings. If he is not on patrol, he is at the council meetings. And I don't think he does that for pleasure somehow."

"Yeah, neither do I. Have you heard already what he did yesterday?"

"No, I don't gossip like you do." Elparion said.

"I don't gossip! Never mind. I heard he vented all his anger out on Aerolas, and that King Thranduil had to send him to his room like an indignant child!"

"Hmm. That's unusual for him. He rarely ever shows emotion. Maybe he was bitten by the spiders and poisoned? We know that he hadn't been in that cocoon for a really long time, but there was plenty enough of it to spread the poison quite far."

"Do you still believe in that nonsensical story that spider's poison makes you mad? It's not true! Ada just made that up to scare you." Elvarion said.

"How do you know it is not true? We haven't exactly seen many elves getting bit by spiders bad enough for the poison to have serious effect, and many of the elders besides ada say that spider's poison makes you mad. Besides, I would be quite cranky if I had spent an hour upside down in a cocoon, not to mention the shame."

"Yes, I would be ashamed too. But I still do not think that a prince should vent his anger in public, and especially not on his younger brother."

"I agree with that. But I can at least understand that he wouldn't be exactly the epitome of calm after all the patrols and council meetings. In fact, I am a bit surprised that he didn't snap earlier. I know I would have, if I spent all my time either in council meetings or on patrol. I would have gone mad after a few weeks." Elparion said.

"Yes, I agree with you on that point. I would have gone crazy too if I couldn't go to the dances anymore."

"Hmpf. You and your dances! You only go for the ellith, just like prince Aerolas. Both of you are only interested in getting as many ellith as possible, it seems."

"Hey, at least I'm not boring like you." Elvarion said with a grin. "But I am not an elfling like Aerolas."

"Yes, true. You're an elfling much smaller than Aerolas." Elparion chuckled.

"Am not!"

"Well you act like one for sure. But we must go to the armoury now if we want to make it there before nightfall."

"Well hurry then. I think somebody will have our heads if we show up too late." Elvarion said.

"I'm coming."

And with that the two elven brothers left. Legolas had followed their conversation with much interest. He had always thought that everyone in the palace either didn't care for him or didn't like him, but apparently Elparion and Elvarion could understand his actions, up to a certain level. Most of the palace staff didn't understand the thoughts of the crown prince, he knew that for sure, but he hadn't thought that Aerolas was viewed as an elfing by the members of his patrol.

With a shock Legolas realised that he was really taking a risk by staying in the tree. He climbed down smoothly with years of practised agility and broke out into a run. He made sure that he wasn't spotted by prying eyes from the castle by taking a route partially through a few bushes. He climbed up to the roof of the cavern palace with ease, his elven agility serving him well.

* * *

With a smooth, soundless movement Legolas opened the window as far as he could and slid through the opening. He removed his tunic and legging, for they were showing the marks of the oak tree and would give him away immediately if someone saw him wearing them. He took a pair of fresh leggings out of his wardrobe and put them on. It was one of the few leggings that came close to fitting him, so it didn't require a belt like most others would. He grabbed an small tunic and pulled it on. It was too large for him, but a too-large tunic was better than oversized leggings.

Legolas forced himself to calm down. He grabbed one of the many books that filled the shelves in his room and started reading. Reading was, besides practising archery, his favourite thing to do, for it was best done alone. And the crown prince of Mirkwood was always alone.

Legolas had been taught by the best of instructors that Mirkwood had. Since a very young age he had learned how to read and write, and he had fallen in love with books as soon as he could read without help. At first he had spent days and days in the library, devouring book after book. But his father did not think it necessary for his son to read works of fiction, so he had limited Legolas' reading time to two hours every day. In a way that had been a good thing, since the small elfling came outside and played like elflings his age ought to do, but it had made Legolas unhappy. There was no one around to play with besides the trees, and trees were not exactly much fun when playing tag. So after a while, Legolas had sneaked into the library at night to carry some books off to his room. Over the years Legolas had built up a sizeable collection of them in a previously unused wardrobe, and the book had become more of a safe haven to him than they had been initially.

Legolas quickly lost himself in the comforting world of fiction, far away from all the problems he faced in the real world.


	4. A Derogatory Conversation

**A/N: This was written partially in between an Ancient Greek test (horrible subject, but Latin was even worse and I had to pick one) and a Physics test. If something is wrong with it, please send me a message and I'll try to fix it. **

**Thranduil's reasoning for his actions against Legolas won't be explained later on (I think), so I'll post a short explanation here for the curious readers. Legolas is the crown prince of Mirkwood, so Thranduil must prepare him for his task. Besides the obvious part of knowledge that a prince must have of it there is also a behavioural part. A good king (in Thranduil's opinion) is a king that can use cold logic at all possible times. He must be strong, for his people depend on him in hard times. So Thranduil reasons that if he shows his son a cold shoulder and acts like Legolas doesn't matter, maybe Legolas will learn that the feelings of a king do not matter in cases regarding the entire kingdom.**

**I hope you understood that explanation, my mind has exploded slightly after that Greek test so I'm not sure that everything I type is correct. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Please review!  
**

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Legolas was forced out of the comforting world of words by a short knock on his door. He closed his book, marking the page he was on with a small piece of string.

"Enter." He said.

"My prince." The servant, Nomianal, greeted him. "King Thranduil wishes you to offer your apologies to prince Aerolas. He has ordered me to follow you to the library, where prince Aerolas is waiting for you. Then I am to escort you back to your room"

"Very well, Nomianal." Legolas said with a sigh. He didn't know why he needed to apologise to Aerolas, but knew Aerolas had told his ada something yesterday evening that was not entirely truthful, to say the least.

Legolas left his room, followed by Nomianal. The servant's timidness made him a bit of a loner between other elves, much like Legolas was, partially due to the obvious nickname of 'Nomie' he had carried since childhood. Nomianal was one of the only servants in the entire castle that were sympathetic towards the prince. None of them were very open about the fact, though, but it meant a lot to young Legolas that somebody would at least be bothered if he went missing for a prolonged time.

* * *

Legolas made his way to the library, which had been his favourite room when he was younger and not as closed off as he now was. Nomianal was following him closely, but Legolas didn't mind the servant's presence.

Legolas entered the library. He hadn't been there in quite a while, preferring to read his own collection of books that he had assembled in his room. He had forgotten the smell of the library, a smell so thick you could almost taste it in the air you breathed. It smelled like parchment and leather, courtesy of the books that filled the big shelves in the room. Countless books, many of them as old as age, others as new as freshly fallen snow, were stacked in the bookcases that filled the large room.

Legolas let his eyes travel over every aspect of the library slowly, soaking the image he had so loved when he was younger into his memory. Eventually, his eyes fell on the tall form of his brother, who was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the room, waiting impatiently for his older brother.

"Hello little brother." Aerolas said when he saw that Legolas had noticed him.

"I may be smaller than you, but I am still older."

"Oh. Is the little prince annoyed? How unfortunate. I was under the impression that you were going to apologize to me for your intolerable behaviour yesterday at the council meeting."

"What have you told ada this time, Aerolas?" Legolas said with a sigh.

"I told him that you were a failure and a disgrace to our family, Legolas. And you know what he did when I told him that?"

"N-No." Legolas said, unable to keep the quiver out of his voice. He didn't expect Aerolas to answer truthfully, but he hadn't expected this answer nor this question. He was afraid of what Aerolas was going to say next, because he knew that whatever he did to convince himself that Aerolas was lying, he was always going to doubt himself on an unconscious level. He hated feeling so insecure, but there was little he could do to help it.

"He laughed, little brother."

"He did not." Legolas said, trying to sound convincing.

"Yes he did." Aerolas said in a tone that made you want to believe him. Legolas had always fallen for that little trick, just like all the servants in the palace. "But he stopped laughing when I told him that both He and I needed to appease the councillors after your intolerable behaviour, as well as correct all the mistakes you have made. That was when he became furious."

"It is not true." Legolas said, still trying to sound convincing but failing at it.

"You know it is. You know ada doesn't love you."

"Ada does love me" Legolas said softly, unsure of his own words.

"Think about it, little brother. When was the last time he told you? When was the last time he held you and comforted you? When was the last time he looked on you with an emotion other than disdain or indifference?"

"I..." Legolas started, sounding as insecure as he felt. Aerolas' words were true. The last time Thranduil told him he loved him was a very long time ago, the last time Legolas was held by his father nothing more than a childhood memory and the only emotion Legolas could remember seeing in his father's eyes was pain, anger or indifference.

"Let's face it, little brother." Aerolas started, his voice naught more than a whisper but powerful and convincing nonetheless. "You're unwanted."

* * *

When Legolas left the library nearly half an hour after he had gone inside, Nomianal was waiting for the prince. The soft voices belonging to Aerolas and Legolas had stopped a few moments before, and Nomianal was prepared for the small prince to leave now.

But he wasn't prepared for the library door to slam open with surprising speed. He stepped back quickly to avoid being hit and he could see the small, lithe form of Legolas dashing through the well-lit underground corridor. He shot a quick glance into the library, but he could only see Aerolas standing in the middle of the room, looking quite smug with a grin on his face.

Nomianal left Aerolas behind in the library and he set out to check on the crown prince. He knew Legolas would try to seek comfort in his room initially, but he was still obliged by his orders to make sure the prince was indeed in his room. If he wasn't it was his task to find out where he was and he would not like to have to report to Thranduil that Legolas was missing.

Halfway towards Legolas' room, Nomianal heard soft, muffled sobs coming from one of the lesser-used corridors of the underground palace. He had had plenty of experience with the cries of Legolas for he had cared for the young prince for a long time, and these sobs sounded exactly like the young elf's cries.

Nomianal carefully pulled the cloth that barred the entrance to a small, hidden alcove away and peered inside. He was shocked by the sight of the prince, who's emotions were usually stashed away carefully to hide his insecurity, crying his heart out in the back of the alcove. The small and frail elf sat hunched over in the deepest corner of the dark space, his head buried in his arms.

Nomianal quickly sat down next to the young elf. He did not know what Aerolas had told the prince in the half hour they had been alone in the library, but he knew that it must have been harsh to elicit such a response from the crown prince. Nomianal put his arm around the slender shoulders of the small prince. He was startled a bit when Legolas quickly lent into the embrace, soaking the physical comfort up like he hadn't been held like that in centuries.

* * *

Legolas knew that someone had entered the alcove, a small, enclosed space that he had hidden himself away in. He guessed that that person was Nomianal, but he didn't know for sure. The person said down next to him and pulled him into a comforting embrace. He knew for sure that it wasn't Aerolas, for he hadn't heard the person laugh as Aerolas would do. And neither was it Thranduil, for he hadn't heard the words 'Stop crying! A prince does not cry' yet.

Legolas didn't know who it was that held him in the comforting embrace, but his body craved the physical comfort it gave. Years and years of being alone without a father or a mother or even friends to be comforted by had ridden Legolas of all physical touches. He lent into the embrace, soaking up the tender contact he had been so depraved of for the past centuries. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and they flowed freely from all the sadness and grief that Aerolas' words had caused.

* * *

**A/N: Anyone in favour of forming a flash mob and dragging Aerolas through a pile of Shelob's droppings say 'aye'. **


	5. An Important Mission

**A/N: This chapter is important for the plot. It was actually a bit too short for my liking, but I managed to stretch it out pretty far. It's almost 1700 words in total, whereas the first version only had nearly 400 words. I hope you don't mind that I added some more words! I don't know if all the facts in this chapter are completely correct, since I wrote most of them down from memory (memory of reading fanfics and reading the books and the Silmarillion). If there's anything contradictory here, or not according to the books, please send me a message and I'll try to change it.  
**

**Please enjoy!**

**Reviews are welcome!

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Legolas made his way through the underground corridors towards his father's personal study. He was summoned there only minutes ago from his room, where he had been staying since Nomianal had found him in the alcove. The servant had helped the prince to his room, and had stayed there for a while to comfort the young prince. But despite Nomianal's best efforts in comforting him, Legolas' heart was in his shoes when the message reached that his father had summoned reached him. He had spent time trying to steel his gaze and hid his emotions before leaving his room, so there was little to see outwardly on the young prince's face.

Legolas reached his father's personal study, located in one of the upper levels of the underground palace. It was situated next to one of the larger, better-lit hallways in the castle and the light colouring of the oaken doors complemented the light shade of the palace corridor. The light and fair colours around him formed a great contrast with Legolas' mood, frightened and deep. It was a bit ironical, actually.

He waited for the large oaken doors to his father's study, evening his face to show no outward emotions. He knocked, and his father bode him to enter.

"Legolas, have a seat." Thranduil said to his son. It was not spoken in a tone of disdain, nor in one of hate, but in an emotionless tone that could mean anything.

"I have called you here for an important task." Thranduil started, and Legolas' worries that he was going to receive a verbal whipping diminished slightly. "This morning, I received a letter from Elrond from Rivendell concerning an alliance between the elven kingdoms of Rivendell, Lothlorien and Mirkwood."

Thranduil paused to give Legolas time to think about the situation. An alliance with Rivendell and Lothlorien was certainly useful, since Mirkwood was under constant threat and attacks of spiders from the south and orcs from Dol Guldur. Until now there had always been a slightly uneasy peace between the three elven kingdoms, but if an alliance were formed it would strengthen the ties between all elves on Middle Earth.

"I am sure you are aware that such an alliance can be very useful, especially in perilous times as these. I have considered Elrond's offer and I have decided that further talks were in order. I have already dispatched a messenger to bring him word of the coming of my two most important ambassadors." Thranduil said.

Legolas sat still on his chair. The next few words out of his father's mouth would dictate if the entire situation was either good or bad. If two of the councillors were to go, he would temporarily have a more important role in the council, which would mean a temporary relief from patrolling duties. If he were to go with one of the councillors it might prove a valuable learning trip throughout all of the lands between here and Rivendell, as well as a relief of patrolling duties. Legolas changed his gaze only minimally to signal that he was ready for what his father was going to say.

"I will need both Aerolas and you to go." Thranduil spoke.

Legolas hid his surprise well, but not well enough for his father. Through Thranduil did not show recognition, he could tell that his son was surprised.

"Aerolas and you will travel to Lothlorien first, where you will speak to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel about the alliance. They will most likely not pose a problem in accepting our terms. After your visit you will travel to Rivendell, to Lord Elrond. There you will have to be on your best behaviour for Lord Elrond is a smart elf and he knows how to talk. You must be careful when speaking to him, for he can talk you into things you would have never dreamt of doing."

"I understand, Father." Legolas said, emotionlessly. "When will Aerolas and I leave?"

"Therein lies a problem, Legolas. It is nearly winter, and between here and Rivendell lie the Misty Mountains. You can ride to Lothlorien first over the plains, and if the Celeborn releases you quickly you can scale the Misty Mountains before the first snow falls. But you will need to stay in Rivendell for a long time, given Elrond's usual affinity for long talks and endless discussions. I do not expect you to finish the treaty before winter, and that is why I sent both you and Aerolas out. Together you will be able to stand stronger against the Rivendell elves, and form a united front."

"Yes, Father." Legolas said.

"You will leave later today, after noon. I will send out an escort consisting of several guards. They will accompany you to Lothlorien and Rivendell. It is an escort of five, for I need as many capable elves as possible for defending our territory."

"I understand." Legolas nodded.

"Very good. I suggest you start packing. Pack light, for it makes travel much easier."

"I will, Father."

Legolas left his father's study after goodbyes, and once he was out of the room and out of his father's sight, he allowed himself a smile. A mission to Rivendell had long been his dream. All kinds of famous elves lived in the Last Homely Home west of the Misty Mountains. There was Lord Elrond, the long-time ruler of Rivendell. He had fought in many wars, most notably the wars of the Last Alliance. He was known to be a servant of Gil-Galad in his youth. Elrond's wisdom was well-known throughout the world, as well as his reputation as a healer.

Second of the mighty elves Legolas wanted to meet was Lord Glorfindel. Glorfindel was an elf of Gondolin, the Kingdom hidden in the mountains. He had fought in many, many wars and his most notable enemy had been a Balrog. He was one of the only elves in history who had fought a Balrog and survived. He did die in the famous battle but he came back from the Halls of Mandos in the West. He carried the name Balrog-Slayer.

Last of the famous elves Legolas desired to meet in Rivendell was Lord Erestor. The erudite scholar worked and practically lived in the largest library in the known elven world, the library at Rivendell. The old elf knew everything there was to know on almost all possible subjects, and he was a valuable councillor to Lord Elrond. Legolas had heard much about the old elf, and he wanted to meet him badly. He was similar to the scholar, for he was one of the few elves in Mirkwood who liked to spend time reading books, whether in the library or not.

Legolas walked through the hallways in a happy mood, one of the very few he had had in the last years. Many elves saw the sight of the young prince walk through the halls with a smile on his face, and it would become the subject of many whispered conversations and gossiping maids for a long time.

* * *

In the noon, not very much after lunch, Legolas and Aerolas stood in front of the palace with an armed escort. The elves all held the reins to their horses in their hands, for it would be easier on the noble animals to wait with riding until they were outside the palace gates. Thranduil stood in front of his two sons, looking at each of them emotionlessly.

"Ride fast and careful, my sons. Stand fast and strong in both word and deed, and may the will of the Valar be with you." Thranduil said.

"Thank you, father. And may the will of the Valar protect Mirkwood and the palace." Aerolas and Legolas said, though Legolas notably softer than his brother.

Legolas, Aerolas and the escorting elves, the group totalling at seven elves, mounted their horses and set off with a comfortable pace. Legolas and Aerolas led the group, and the guarding elves covered their rear. They left the beautiful, underground palace behind them and set out through the long, darkened paths that traversed Mirkwood in all possible directions. Being elves, they had little to fear despite the spiders and orcs. They knew the paths very well, and there was only a very little chance that they would get lost.

As soon as the elven troupe had left the palace behind and was trotting under the trees in a comfortable yet fast pace, Aerolas leaned closer towards his brother.

"Well, Legolas, we're going to have some fun." He with a mean grin on his face.

* * *

**A/N: Am I evil? I can add another chapter between this one and the next I have planned (and mostly written down), detailing what Aerolas wants to do to his brother. Shall I write that one, or do you want me to get my fat ass back to writing down the plotline?**

**Reviews are welcome!  
**


	6. The Attack

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, but my school decided that they could easily cram a subject that was designed to be tough a whole year in just a few weeks. I've been extremely busy preparing an hour-long presentation about Hadrian (stupid Roman Emperors and their stupid building-fetishes), so my free time was limited the past few weeks. I have decided to make this a bit more of an exciting chapter, with a bit of action, because I don't like boring stories and I can't write good enough to make a story interesting without something happening. I have decided to cut the chapter off at the first point I thought reasonable, because otherwise it would have been too long (and you'd have to wait longer for the update). I hope I'll be able to upload the second part of this chapter somewhere before next week Saturday, because then I'll be going on a holiday (Skiing! yay!) and I'll most likely not be able to post anything. Anyways, enough of my rambling, up to the story.**

**Reviews are welcome!**

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Legolas and his company travelled not very far on the first day. There was not much reason for haste, and none of the elves were overly eager to leave the safe land protected by the elven magic from the Mirkwood Palace. The lands north of the Mirkwood Mountains were safe and relatively devoid of spiders and orcs thanks to the frequent elven patrols.

The elves managed to ride several leagues by the end of the day. When night was coming close, all of them were in favour of seeking refuge in the canopy of the trees. The horses and heavy packs were left on the ground, and all the elves save one guard were up on the branches of the trees.

For four days in a row the elves rode westwards, towards the edge of Mirkwood. Many a creature they passed, most of them normal creatures of the day. Only two times they encountered spiders, which were taken care of with ease, and no times they encountered Orcs.

* * *

At noon on the fifth day of their journey, the elven troupe reached the edge of the largest wood in Middle Earth. The barren lands between the forest's edge and the mighty Anduin were deserted and desolate. The only living beings there were animals of both light and darkness, and the shape-changer Beorn. And since Beorn lived southwards, past the old forest road, and did not travel northwards often, the only creatures found in the wastelands were animals and Orcs.

The elven troupe kept in the safe enclosure of the forest, within view of the forest edge. They followed one of the smaller, elven-made paths that trailed throughout the whole of Mirkwood. It led them southwards in a neat line, continuing all the way south until the magic that kept the path in existence was battled by the evil forces around Dol Guldur. Other creatures, save for a few animals, could not find the elven trail through the forest, the magic prevented it. The elves travelled alone, for these parts of the forest were hardly inhibited.

* * *

After five days of travelling southwards, the troupe had passed the Gladden Fields, where Isildur had been slain so many years ago. They could all feel the evil power increase as they approached Dol Guldur. The dark might had long since focussed all his power northwards, towards the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood. Lothlorien was closer, only half the distance away as Mirkwood from Dol Guldur, but a unidentifiable might held the dark powers at bay there.

Though all the members in the troupe could feel the dark power around them, none was as effected as Legolas. The darkness seemed to tempt him, use his feelings and memories against him. For a few nights, the young prince had had nightmares about his family. In his dreams, Thranduil would kick him out of the palace for something he could not remember doing, and make his brother king.

"Aerolas, it would be wise if we left the forest now and headed for Lothlorien. We are approaching close to Dol Guldur, and neither I nor my horse likes that place." Legolas started after they had set out from camp on the sixth day after they had turned southwards.

"Why would you want to leave the protection of the forest, Legolas? Are you so afraid of the dark?"

"Orcs are coming closer by the day, I can sense them. It is only a matter of time before they attack us at night, and the risks of that are too great."

"And do you not think that leaving the protection of the trees will draw them out and make them attack us? Are you foolish, Legolas?" Aerolas said angrily.

"Aerolas, the horses are starting to feel uneasy and so do I. If we are travelling much more southwards, we will have to go through Dol Guldur to go to Lothlorien."

"Very well," Aerolas said with a faked sigh, as if his brother's plan was a foolish one. "We will travel southwards for one more day. By dawn tomorrow, we will set out westwards towards Lothlorien because our beloved little prince is afraid of the dark."

Legolas kept his tongue. He knew he was appointed leader of the group, since he had both more experience and was the crown prince, but Aerolas seemed to have taken over the leadership of the group. He rode in front, with Legolas behind him, and he dished out orders like he had been doing it for years. None of the other elves had said a thing about it, and neither had Legolas. He was ashamed to say that he was afraid to speak, for it is highly uncommon for elves to feel in such a way.

* * *

Throughout the sixth day, the last day they were going to travel south before turning west to Lothlorien, Legolas had a uneasy and very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, like his instincts were telling him that there was something about to go terribly wrong. But there was no dark creature to be spotted, and Legolas could sense neither orc nor spider being overly close.

On the evening of the sixth day, they set up camp like they had done all other days. One elf stayed down on the ground while the others sought a comfortable place to sleep up in the canopy of the trees. Legolas found an old, large birch on one of which's boughs he could easily fit. He willed himself to sleep, for they would ride over empty plains tomorrow and they would need to be wide awake should there be any orcs from Dol Guldur try and attack them.

* * *

In the death of night, with only half a moon to penetrate the thick layers of leaves that covered the entire forest, Legolas shot awake. He heard voices, harsh, cold and cruel, too close nearby. It took him only a second to ascertain himself that the creatures those voices belonged to were indeed orcs, but in that second he was wide awake and ready to fight. He had prepared his bow and had an arrow in his hand, ready to fire in an instant. He listened closely and realised, much to his horror, that the Orcs were between him and the rest of the troupe.

When they had made camp yesterday evening, Legolas had climbed in the trees and had started searching for a comfortable and safe spot in the canopies of the trees surrounding him. But most of the branches were straight and long but not very wide or comfortable. And the ones that were had already been taken, so Legolas searched a bit more out from the campsite, deeper into the forest. He had found many places in which he could hide, but some of them were too small, others were already inhibited by smaller animals. He had been about to give up and return to the campsite and search in another direction when he had found the perfect spot.

It wasn't too big, and neither was it too small. It had been inhabited, as indicated by a few stray branches and nuts that hadn't been touched in a long time. It was sheltered from any possible rain and wind by a big, overhanging branch that protected the small hollow in the tree from above. There were two branches in front of the hollow that could provide a quick way of exit and shelter from any unwanted views from the ground. It was perfect for a little elf like Legolas, and he hadn't hesitated for a second to claim it as his place to sleep.

But right now, Legolas was hastily trying to make his way towards the rest of his troupe undetected. It wouldn't have been any trouble for him to remain undetected by normal orcs, but these were orcs from the depths of Dol Guldur, and they were sent out on a mission to destroy the elven troupe and both elven princes. They had been ordered by their masters to look up towards the treetops, because that was where elves moved in danger. And since the moon was half, there was enough light for the dark creatures to see any blonde elf-hair, and they were bright enough to attack anything closely resembling an elf.

Therefore, Legolas had to seek cover from smaller branches, leaves and shadows to reach towards his troupe. He had managed to get within a few metres of the tree where the closest of his troupe was, which happened to be Elparion. There was unfortunately a gap between the trees, a span of several meters without branches of leaves for cover. Since it would take far too long to double back and search another route towards the troupe, Legolas needed to act. The orcs had almost reached the trees where the other elves were staying, and while orcs don't pose a challenge for an awake elf, they do for a sleeping one.

Legolas let out a small warning hoot, like the one of an owl (which weren't natural to Mirkwood, but only elves would really notice), to warn the rest of his troupe.

The warning sound, which was supposed to be a safe means of communication between elves, had bad effects. The orcs apparently were overly eager to shoot anything that moved, because as soon as Legolas had made the sound two arrows embedded themselves in the branch he sat on. Luckily there had been a bird nearby, and it flew away from the sudden impact of the arrows. The orcs didn't notice that it wasn't an owl, and they didn't notice the small and frightened elf on top of the branch they had hit with their arrows.

But far worse than the arrows fired in Legolas' direction was the fact that Elparion made a sound while waking up from his slumber. He merely yawned, but the orcs, which had been on alert from the strange sound of the 'owl' in the tree, heard it. Before he could have reacted, Elparion was pierced by two arrows.

With a scream he fell out of the tree and landed a few metres from the closest orc in the bushes. Legolas hart stopped for an instant, because Elparion had been hit by arrows because of his warning, and he had liked Elparion best from all the members of the patrol troupe.

Legolas regained his senses and before the orcs could take one step in the direction of the fallen Elparion, the first two had fallen to Legolas' arrows. Chaos ensued in the ranks of the orcs, because they could not locate the position of the archer that fired the arrows. Legolas had distracted most of them from the fallen Elparion, but a good twenty orcs were still trying to reach him. Legolas notched another two arrows on his bow, drawing, aiming and firing in a split second. Two more orcs fell down with arrows protruding from their necks, spilling black blood on the forest floor.

The rest of the troupe of orcs, a good fifty of them all in total, could now find the archer in the trees that had killed four of their comrades. They notched dark arrows on equally simple yet destructive bows and they fired into the thick bush of leaves that shielded Legolas from direct view.

Two arrows almost hit Legolas, and one pierced the hem of his tunic before passing by harmless. Legolas muttered a silent prayer of thanks, for most of the orc arrows had missed him completely. Before the orcs could fire another volley at the tree, he had fired two arrows, both of which struck their intended target, and had leapt to another tree.

The orcs were taken by surprise as the arrows that shot them down mercilessly came from another tree suddenly. They had concentrated their fire on the tree were Legolas had been sitting in at first, but all the arrows from their latest volley had missed because their target was in another tree. Two arrows shot out of the canopy of a small birch tree, and embedded themselves in the front two orcs that had almost reached Elparion on the ground.

Legolas took only a second to check on his comrade and after seeing him hurt badly, but very much alive, he shot out another volley of arrows to protect the other elf.

The orcs were not entirely stupid, despite mountains of evidence saying otherwise, and they quickly aimed their fire on the tree Legolas was in. Most of their arrows missed their target, but one passed Legolas's ear with only half an inch of distance, and another one grazed Legolas' arm.

Legolas dove towards another tree, but this time, the orcs knew his plan and they directed their fire to trees surrounding the small birch as well. He had a very hard time dodging the orcish arrows and remaining out of sight at the same time, too hard a time to draw his bow and fire.

Legolas could only watch how more than a dozen of orcs reached the now nearly unconscious form of Elparion. The orcish arrows must have hit something important, because there was a big puddle of blood forming on the ground in front of him and it was not looking good for Elparion. He was alone, weaponless and hardly conscious against at least fourteen heavily armed orcs out for elven blood.

But before the first orc could lay a hand on Elparion, a large volley of arrows shot out from the surrounding trees. Apparently the remaining five elves of the troupe had also woken up from Legolas' hoot, but they had prepared an attack to protect Elparion. With practised ease all the orcs closing in on Elparion fell, leaving only the bulk of the group that was after Legolas.

* * *

Legolas had almost fallen prey to the bites of the arrows since one had pierced his tunic just below his armpit and another one had gazed the top of his head lightly. But so far he had managed to dodge most of the arrows, although it was not looking good because the orcs that had been carrying swords and axes drew out their bows as well. Legolas had managed to evade the arrows of well over a dozen of orcs so far, but he could not manage the arrows of fifty orcs.

But before the sword-carrying orcs could draw out their bows, five of them were pierced with arrows from a multitude of directions around the large gap between the trees. Legolas took opportunity of the challenge to quickly move three trees away, out of the direction of the volleys of arrows.

He notched a few more arrows and fired them in quick succession, each of the striking their target and hitting the orcs on the forest floor. With six elves in the treetops firing at the hideous creatures of the dark, creating chaos and confusion, the troupe of orcs was quickly picked off one by one by expertly shot arrows and deadly aim. It wasn't a very long time before there was no hideous orc alive in the gap between the trees.


	7. The Voice in the Trees

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone! I'm back from France. The only thing I broke was my ski (had an disagreement with a rock at 50 km/h). There wasn't really much snow, but plenty enough to ski reasonably okay (as long as you watched out for rocks...). But anyways, I didn't have a laptop-with-internet-connection there so I was stuck writing other things (not-fanfiction-related things. I write on too!). And since school suddenly decided that my second-to-last year should be a busy one, I haven't exactly had a lot of free time to write. I apologise again for my tardiness (I started playing freerice again, to up my vocabulary a bit...). I hope it's noticeable in my writing proficiency (or lack thereof) that I took the CAE Cambridge exams last week. I'm quite nervous for the results, I'm hoping for an A (Got one of those in the FCE last year.)**

**Anyways, the story and I had an disagreement about the storyline, and I had to give in. That's why there's a cliffy at the end of the chapter. I'm already busy writing the next chapter, but it could be some time before I think it's finished enough. I hope you all enjoy!**

**Reviews are welcome!

* * *

**As soon as the battle was over and all the orcs had fallen prey to the sharp bites of elvish arrows, Legolas jumped down from his latest hiding place (on the largest branch of a two-stemmed birch tree) and ran towards Elparion. But before he could reach his fallen comrade, he was met by the tall and angry form of Elvarion.

"Why in the name of the Valar did you make that sound?" Elvarion said with so much anger that Legolas took a step back.

"I was trying to warn..." Legolas started.

"Then why didn't you use the trees to warn him? You're an elf for Valar's sake!"

Legolas cringed in shame. How could he forget that? How could he forget the trees? It could have prevented Elparion from getting hurt! He was so stupid.

"I ..." Legolas began, but he was cut off by Elvarion.

"No. You're the worst excuse for an elf I've ever seen. You're lucky that you're the prince, otherwise I'd have dragged you back towards the palace."

"You can certainly leave it up to my little brother to do such a stupid thing. He's lucky to have been given a special mission from ada, otherwise I would have thrown him out of the group." Aerolas said coldly from behind Elvarion. He and the two remaining members of the group had patched up Elparion as good as possible in the mean time.

"How is he?" Elvarion asked, who was not as adept at healing as most other elves and refrained from trying to heal anybody as long as it wasn't a life-threatening wound.

"The first arrow pierced his shoulder blade, and it's only a flesh wound. We've cleaned it as good and as bad as we could do right here, but I'm afraid we'll have to move him to a safer location. This place smells like death too much, and of shame too." Aerolas said while shooting Legolas a scornful glare.

"And the second arrow?" Elvarion asked. He had seen Elparion lying on the ground with two arrows protruding from his chest when the battle had started.

"The second arrow has pierced his stomach. Cheirion is busy trying to close the stomach itself, so that no more of the foul-reeking acid seeps out, but it's bad. We must hurry to Lothlorien, for that is the only place within a day's reach where Elparion can be healed sufficiently." Aerolas said.

"Can he ride?" Elvarion asked.

"No. He's too weak to ride alone, so he must ride together with one of us."

"As much as I want it too, he can't ride with me. Eruthren can't carry the both of us, even if we transfer all the other things to another saddle bag." Elvarion said.

"I don't think Aerulen can carry both of us, though I suspect that he can hold out longer than Eruthren." Aerolas said. "I think Legolas must ride with Elparion, for he is the lightest of us."

Both Legolas and Elvarion looked to Aerolas in surprise. One in surprise of horror, other in surprise of shock.

"Plus it seems fitting that he takes care of Elparion, because he's the reason he's injured." Aerolas said.

"Fine." Elvarion said angrily. The person that was the one reason that Elparion was hurt now had to ride with him to protect him.

* * *

Several minutes later, when Elparion was bandaged up as good as it got, the elven troupe packed up everything and left the place of battle. The smells of death and decay had started setting in and, although strictly against the elven tradition, they had not buried nor burned the bodies of the orcs, because there was not enough time.

The saddle bags of Aerulen, Aerolas' horse, were added to Legolas's horse. Aerolas rode on Elparion's horse while Legolas and Elparion rode on Aerulen.

Elparion was taller than Legolas, quite a lot taller, so it looked strange to see a small elf trying to keep Elparion, who was shifting in and out of consciousness constantly due to the loss of blood, in place while at the same time trying to keep control over a horse that was used to a very dominant master. Luckily it was an elven horse, otherwise it might have thrown off its rider after sensing his uncertainty.

* * *

The elves rode with the greatest speed possible in their situation. They had Aerolas taking the front, Elvarion at Legolas' side and the other two elves covering the back. Elvarion shot angry looks at Legolas, and pitiful looks at his brother. They were twins, so he could very well sense Elparion's pain in times like these.

"You're holding him wrong, Legolas." Elvarion said when the elven troupe had just left the edge of Mirkwood forest behind them. "You're hurting his stomach this way."

Legolas carefully held Elparion higher. He cursed the fact that he was very small for an elf, for it was tiring to hold his arms up as high as he did.

Elvarion was silent for a few minutes, while the group steadily rode on.

"You're holding him wrong again." Elvarion said when Legolas had lowered his arm in a moment of lost attention.

Legolas held his arm higher again, to spare Elparion's wounded stomach.

* * *

When it neared noon, and Legolas arms felt like they were slowly being put through a series of torturing devices, the group rested for a very short while. Elparions bandages were changed, using up every set of bandages the group had with them for this short journey. Legolas massaged his arms, while slowly cursing himself for being too weak to hold Elparion on the horse, and too dumb to have prevented this whole ordeal. How could he be fit to be a prince if he couldn't even do those simple things? He was worthless, just like his ada had said.

Legolas train of self-loathing thoughts was interrupted by a very known and very disturbing feeling in the pit of his stomach. There were orcs close by.

"Aerolas." Legolas called out. "We must leave. There are orcs closing in on us."

"They must have picked up on our trail." Aerolas said while shooting a glare at his brother. "We'll leave immediately and make haste to Lothlorien."

The elves quickly left the site where they had rested and rode towards Lothlorien with great haste. The land in front of them was plain and flat, with no vegetation to escape the sight of the orcs. There were too many orcs tailing them, judging by the size of the cloud of dust rising up, to battle with any chance of winning. The elves had no choice but to flee towards the Anduin, in the hope of finding a place to cross the mighty water flow before the night fell.

* * *

For quite a long time, too long in the eyes of the elves, they rode next to the river in search of a suitable place to cross it. The terrain was slowly becoming rockier and more dangerous to ride, and soon they'd have to dismount their horses in hope of finding a crossing on foot before the orcs caught up to them. The foul creatures could move faster than elves on difficult terrain if their need was high enough. But only few minutes before the orcs caught up with the group of elves, a sudden widening in the river made the water flow slow enough for the elvish horses to cross. It was still pretty deep, judging by the colour of the water, but the choice between getting wet and getting shot is an easy one.

The proud elvish horses confidently carried their riders through the river, trusting their instincts to keep them steady on their way and out of sudden dangers that the river bottom might pose. But when the troupe of elves neared the other side of the river, the first twangs of orcish bows could be heard.

The orcs had taken up position on the high hills that flanked the east side of the Anduin, where the dark power that rested in Dol Guldur ruled the land. On the other side of the mighty river, the west side, the light forces from Lothlorien were in control, as the whole land fell under the protective eye of the Lady of the Forest.

* * *

By a small miracle the elves managed to reach the other shore safely, without being hit by arrows or darts. Harsh and loud screams followed as the elves followed a small path that led them up to the plains, out of reach and sight for the orcs. Their fear for the river and the Lady of the Woods was greater than their fear for their master's whips, so none of the foul beasts dared to cross the mighty stream. The elven troupe had escaped.

The elves made haste towards Lothlorien. Elparion was still badly injured, and he had not regained consciousness since they had stopped to change his bandages.

* * *

It was not long before the lush green edges of the forest of Lothlorien could be seen. There was something special about the trees, something which clearly showed that it was not a common forest. If the entire area was parched from drought, the trees there would only be slightly dreary. But more obvious – to elves – than the difference in the trees was the obvious sense of power that emanated from the high, proud stems of the forest. It was a power that could be frightening, if you were unfamiliar with it, but it could also be a feeling of safety and comfort.

To Aerolas, it was neither. He wasn't frightened easily, and he knew what lived in the forest so he wasn't comforted by the feeling either. Thranduil, and consequently many of the elves in Mirkwood, didn't like the elves from Lothlorien (or the elves from Rivendell for that matter). It was an age-old feud between two old tribes of elves, one to which only the Valar remembered the exact cause. But nonetheless, Thranduil had warned Aerolas about the manipulative ways of the Witch of the Forest (as he called her) many times over, and Aerolas already disliked her, despite having not met her once.

Legolas, however, felt no such feelings of contempt. Thranduil had told him of the many tales about the Lady of the Forest, but Legolas didn't want to fell an opinion on anyone before he had met that person. And besides that, he was too impressed and awed and, up to a certain point, frightened of the mighty forest of Lothlorien.

* * *

The elven groupe rode underneath a thick canopy of trees, on an old forest path that was rarely used due the lack of traffic between Mirkwood and Lothlorien. Their prescense did not go unnoticed by the silent watchers of the forest, the soldiers of the lady, the Galadhrim.

"Halt! Who travels through the forest of Lothlorien?" A voice shouted from the tree. It was obviously an elven voice, because it sounded clear and joyful despite being intended to sound intimidating.

"We travel from Mirkwood with on important mission from my father, king Thranduil. We have a wounded elf with us, and we request aid." Aerolas spoke when Legolas was searching for where the voice came from.

"Aid has been called for, and there will be a bed prepared in the city." The voice called from the trees after a few moments. "You may enter the city, but your weapons will be taken from you."

"We do not wish to be treated as foes, nor do we wish any harm to one of our own kind." Aerolas spoke again.

"That is of no matter. Your weapons will be taken from you, they are not allowed into the city."

"I am Aerolas, prince of Mirkwood. I do not wish to be treated as a foe in these lands!" Aerolas said, his anger growing.

"You will relinquish your weapons if you want to enter the city." The voice said, growing in anger too at the haughtiness with which Aerolas spoke.

"I will not concede with your stupid rules. Show yourself, coward of an elf!"

"You do not do wise to threaten me, Prince of Mirkwood. I have many bows and even more arrows, and you are in my aim now." The voice in the trees threatened.

"If you think we cannot see you, you are obviously foolish. The Galadhrim may be experienced archers, but we are warriors of Mirkwood!" Aerolas spoke again, not frightened by the many bows and arrows that were suddenly visible from around them.

Arrows were notched on bows, bowstrings were pulled tight and aims were taken. The Mirkwood elves, save for Elparion, who was still unconscious, and Legolas, who was keeping Elparion on the horse.

* * *

**A/N: Am I evil? **

**I needed something for Aerolas and 'the voice in the trees' to disagree on, and this was the most logical option.**

**Oh, and if you noticed any spelling mistakes and/or grammatical errors, please tell me. I work without a beta, and there's a connection error between my fingers and my brain occasionally. And I'm planning on taking the CPE next year (If I remembered the name correctly), so I want to prepare by making as little errors as possible.  
**


	8. The Voice in the Trees, part 2

**A/N: This chapter is a little bit shorter that I had hoped it would be, but if I had made it longer, you'd have to wait longer for the update. I'm certain you don't really mind. (I hope). If my estimations are correct (which is not often so, especially not when it concerns dates and numbers of chapters in my story), then I'd say that either the next chapter will be negotiations, or the chapter after that. Anyways, I hope you like this chapter!**

**Reviews are Welcome!**

* * *

"Please, Master Galadhrim, my companion here is wounded. I am willing to relinquish my weapons, he needs aid more than I need my pride." Legolas spoke softly while leading Aerulen, the horse which he had lended from Aerolas to carry both him and Elparion, a few steps forward. Many arrows switched aim from Aerolas towards Legolas, for he was now in the front of the group.

"You will be allowed into the city when your weapons are relinquished." The voice spoke from the trees again, obviously surprised that an elf who appeared to be lower in rank that the prince dared to act so trustingly around elves he was not familiar with, while blatanly disregarding orders from someone higher in rank.

"Traitor." Aerolas said to his brother while scowling at him. The other elves of the groupe also scowled, though behind Legolas' back. He was still a prince, despite not looking nor acting like one, and he still deserved some of their respect. Aerolas was the only one who openly scowled at his brother.

Legolas ungracefully wrestled with his bow and quiver, trying to take them off without dropping Elparion. He dropped his knives too, as well as Elparion's daggers and his own hidden blades. Elvarion had already taken off Elparions bow and sword to lighten his load as much as possible.

"You may continue on the path, the others will have to wait." The voice in the trees spoke, a hint of mirth detectable at the actions of the small elf.

Legolas guided Aerulen forward, trying to ignore the scowls and anger he received from his brother and the rest of the troupe. He felt like a traitor, but Elparion needed aid more than he needed respect from his brother. He'd already done a lifetime without it, so why bother?

* * *

After a few twists and turns in the path, Legolas noticed that there were two elves trailing him. One on the right side of the path, hidden in the canopy of an old birch, the other on the left side of the path behind the branch of an oak.

"I do apologise for Prince Aerolas' behaviour." Legolas said, loud enough for the elves to hear.

"Do not worry, little elf, Haldir enjoys the challenge of having difficult visitors. They will be fine eventually, if they relinquish their weapons." The voice to the right spoke, closer by than Legolas had expected.

"But still, it does not suit a prince to act so rude." Legolas said.

"It also does not suit an elf to speak badly about his superiors." The voice from the left said, sounding mildly annoyed because of Legolas' disrespect.

"Aerolas is not my superior. He's my brother." Legolas said softly, as if he were ashamed of that fact.

"Your brother?" The elf from the right asked, unbelief clearly audible.

"Yes. I'm Legolas Thranduillion, Prince of Mirkwood."

"Please excuse our rudeness, prince Legolas. We were unaware that you were of royal blood." The voice from the left said.

"Don't worry. I'm not like my brother, I don't mind it that much when elves act at ease around me. In fact, I prefer it." Legolas said, stretching the truth a bit. Not minding that others are rude towards you is very different from not having a choice about others being rude towards you.

"Might we inquire as to why your companion is wounded?" The voice from the left asked after a short silence.

"This morning, before dawn, we were taken by surprise by a large group of orcs in Mirkwood. We had ventured too close to Dol Guldur, a foolish act if viewed from later perspective. Elparion was awoken by surprise by the orcs, and he was struck by two arrows. We killed the orcs and we made haste towards Lothlorien."

"There is a dark power in Dol Guldur indeed. Even our watchmen can feel the presence of something foul from that direction. But we have the Lord and Lady to watch over us and keep the evil at bay." The voice from the left said.

"The power in Dol Guldur is not focussed on Lothlorien, instead it focuses on Mirkwood. That is partially why my brother and I are here." Legolas said.

"We did not know that the evil in Dol Guldur focussed on the north more than on other directions. It is not often that elves from Mirkwood come with news from attacks and struggles." The voice from the right stated after a short silence.

"That is partially why we've come here and rectify it." Legolas said softly. "Though with the struggles my brother is having with the one you called 'Haldir', it doesn't bode well for us."

"Do not worry, young prince. Haldir is not trying to cause trouble, he is merely toying with your brother for fun. Though I suppose his fun will be quite over when Lord Celeborn finds out about it."

Lord Celeborn – Legolas had forgotten that he was part of the reason they had come to Lothlorien in the first place. With Aerolas taking over the leadership of the troupe, the dreadful feelings and nightmares from Dol Guldur, the battle with the orcs and Elparion's wounds all took priority to Legolas over the fact that he'd have to negotiate the treaty with Lord Celeborn. And even more of a problem was the fact that he'd have to negotiate the treaty together with Aerolas!

Aerolas would surely speak for the both of them, since he always spoke first between the princes. Their ada had given them advice about forming an united front, so Legolas would have to acquiesce to whatever Aerolas said or did. It was not a prospect he looked forward too, for he knew Aerolas held little respect for the Lord and the Lady of the Wood, and would most likely set unreasonable terms for the treaty. Thranduil had given them, both of them, his instructions on the terms they could and could not concede to, but Aerolas could just as easily accept terms that were very unfavourable to Mirkwood and blame it all on Legolas. He had pulled that stunt of before now, many times in fact, and that was why Legolas dreaded the negotiations.

* * *

After quite a short ride, shorter than Legolas had expected, they reached the wall of Caras Galadhon. It stood high and tall, a white marble barrier that barred the entrance to the City of Light and Dreams, as it was known to the elves.

"I'm afraid we'll have to move around the city, for the only entrance is at the south point, near where the Celebrant flows into the Anduin." The voice from the right said.

"Are the healers ready?" Legolas asked softly. "Elparion cannot continue in this state for much longer."

A short silence followed.

"Please make haste towards the southern gate, Prince Legolas. We will not keep you from bringing your comrade to the healers any longer." The voice from the left said.

"Thank you, I shall make haste." Legolas said before increasing Aerulen's step and leaving the two voices from the trees behind him.

The wall of Caras Galadhon stretched for well over a mile from north to south, and Legolas let Aerulen ride as fast as he dared without Elparion falling off.

* * *

After many twists and turns of the path, and many more metres of white marble wall, Legolas reached the front gate of the City of Light and Dreams. It was open, with several guarding elves ready for the arrival of the prince and his wounded companion. The healers were prepared, and they stood ready for the arrival of their new patient. Save for the occasional troupe of orcs wandering through, there was only very little in Lothlorien that would wound an elf, so the arrival of an elf so badly wounded caused quite an uproar.

"Prince Legolas." The elves greeted respectfully as they bowed to him. Apparently the news of him being a prince had travelled ahead already.

Legolas greeted them with a nod, before he rode towards where the healers were waiting. He lowered Elparion into their hands, and watched them as they brought him away towards the houses of healing with haste. Then he dismounted Aerulen and he handed the horse's reins over to the stable boy nearby.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon, the city of Light and Dreams, Prince of Greenwood the Great." One of the elves stepped forward and addressed Legolas.

"I am honoured to visit the greatest of elven cities left in Middle Earth." Legolas returned.

"The rest of your troupe will arrive shortly, they have just been seen nearing the northern wall of the city. Now if you would please follow me..."

Legolas paid little attention to what the elf was saying, he knew full well that there would be nothing useful coming from the elf, as it was his job to keep him occupied. He was dreading the negotiations of the treaty, which wouldn't be delayed any more once Aerolas reached Caras Galadhon. If only he were more certain of himself, then he might have stood a chance...


	9. The Threat of Betrayal

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy with school (stupid schoolmates that don't do anything, forcing me to do all the work on projects and other things). I have received my CAE results, as stated I took the test two chapters ago, and I've got an A (with which I'm really happy). I think this story is quite good (for my lacking skill of writing), so I pay special attention to each of the chapters in the hope that it is easily readable for you all.**

**I hope you like it!**

**Reviews are welcome!**

* * *

The princes of Mirkwood were led up an elegant staircase that circled the entire stem of the massive mallorn tree, which housed the home of the Lord and Lady of the wood. Aerolas and the rest of the troupe had caught up with Legolas only a few minutes ago. The presence of the Lorien elves had stopped most of the anger from the Mirkwood elves from showing, they were seething with it from the 'betrayal' of their prince, so only Aerolas had sent death glares at his older brother. It had frightened Legolas and, always true to his submissive nature, he was walking behind his brother, though the old rules of etiquette dictated that he, as the older prince, should walk in front.

They reached the top of the staircase, where the elegant construction of white wood bore itself a way through the biggest wooden platform the princes had ever seen. The Lorien elves called it a 'flet', it functioned as a form of plateau on which most of the tree-borne city of Lothlorien was built. Only very few structures were on the ground, most notably the healing houses, and they were hidden between the trees.

On top of the biggest flet in the entire of Lothlorien stood the palace of the Lord and Lady. It was a proud, white structure and, true to the architecture and nature of all elves, it breathed a scent of calm and peacefulness. The elf that had guided the princes to Lord and Lady stepped aside, leaving the princes to the Lord and Lady of the Wood.

"Step forward, Princes of Mirkwood. Long have we waited your arrival in these lands." Celeborn, Lord of the Wood, started.

* * *

Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, of the golden house of Finarfin, did what she did best. She watched and observed, vigilant as always. The turn of events that had happened in the past days had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. She had seen the purpose of the elves as soon as they had left, for she had been blessed with the gift of vision. It was a curse as much as it was a blessing, but alas. The will of the Valar is the way it will be. She had enough time to observe all that came before her and her husband Celeborn, Lord of the wood, was the cause of that. True to his family's tradition, Celeborn held etiquette in exceptionally high regard and mere introductions could last well over half an hour without the participants hearing something actually new. And seeing that the elves before them were both of royal blood, Celeborn would easily keep them occupied with introductory talk for the next few hours.

Galadriel observed the two princes silently. Both had the characteristics of the father and their late mother, who had passed away so horrendously unexpected only centuries ago. The smaller prince looked more like his mother, with fair hair and a very slender, frail build. He was nearly too slender for a male elf, especially a prince, but she could see that it gave him an agility that surpassed many other elves, if not all. But surprisingly, especially more so for a prince, he held his head down continuously, only glancing cautiously at her and Celeborn. He stood shyly, almost submissively, behind the other prince, and she did not need the gift of mind to see that he was uneasy and frightened.

As she rested her eyes upon him, he seemed to notice and he glanced up towards her and in that instant, their gazes met. Galadriel felt a shock of many emotions rushing over her as she involuntarily probed the prince's mind. Fear and sadness were clearly visible, but grief, self-loathing and an all-consuming guilt filled the mind and heart of the young prince. He broke eye contact almost immediately, inching backwards almost unnoticeably until he was practically hiding behind the other, taller prince.

Pondering over the actions, thought and emotions of the smaller prince, she switched her gaze to the other. He was much taller than his brother and much more muscled too, though that was not a difficult feat. He seemed much more certain of himself, as many princes did, and he kept his head proud and straight in front of the Lord and Lady of the Wood. It was quite the opposite of his brother, though as much as they differed in mind, they still were brothers in looks. The hair colour was nearly the same, though the hair of the smaller prince was lighter and looked to be finer to the touch. The eye colour of the taller prince was a pinch darker, though both had the blue eyes of their mother. The only great difference between the princes in a physical way was their size and build. The taller prince would easily surpass his sibling in sheer strength, but he'd lose in a battle of agility. One was built for battles, the other was build for stealth. Quite the opposites, it seemed, that these brothers were, though they were equal in many ways too.

Galadriel sought the mind of the taller prince, taking care to do so unnoticed. But as soon as she did so, he immediately shifted his gaze towards her, almost taunting her to come and get him before he forced her out of his mind completely.

Galadriel blinked as she was forced out harshly. This prince had responded far stronger than his sibling, who had only closed himself off for her by breaking eye contact. No, he had completely forced her mind out of his, and it was not a pleasant sensation.

Galadriel had seen a flash of this prince's personality. She already knew he was not afraid of her or Celeborn, much unlike his sibling, and neither was he sad. She had only felt a feeling of annoyance and slight anger clearly before he had forced her out, but it had already been quite obvious to her that the taller prince did not enjoy being in Lothlorien at all.

An uneasy feeling settled in her mind. What where the names of the princes? Which was the elder and which was the younger? Why would one feel so frightened, when the other was feeling annoyed? Something was off here, and she hated not knowing what it was.

While Galadriel pondered and thought over these questions, Celeborn finished the introductions. He was on a roll, and he would continue for hours and hours with the talks of the peace treaty, leaving his beloved wife up to the task of thinking, observing and planning.

* * *

Many hours later, the negotiations of the treaty were proceeding well. Celeborn had not raised many objections to the treaty, as expected, but true to his verbose nature the talks drawled on endlessly. They had covered all the main points already, but it was already late in the evening and the remainder of the negotiations was set for tomorrow morning.

Surprisingly, Aerolas had kept true to his word to his father and had conceded to all the right points while remaining adamant on the others. It had lifted some fears from Legolas' heart, but they would still have the negotiations with Lord Elrond to complete before they would return to Mirkwood. Neither of those prospects gladdened Legolas, he was both fearful of going to Rivendell, to Lord Elrond, with which his father had had a long family feud, and of going home, to the father that didn't want him.

But as soon as Aerolas and Legolas were brought to the flet that was prepared especially for their use, his worries about going to Rivendell or back to Mirkwood were violently cast away by more pressing matters.

"Do you know what betrayal is, dear brother?" Aerolas asked Legolas in a scraringly deadly voice, though he spoke hardly louder than a whisper.

Legolas took a step back instinctively from the angered look in his brother's eyes. He bit back a shudder and answered.

"Yes." It came out far more scared and pained than Legolas had intended.

"And do you know what the punishment for betrayal is, dear brother?" Aerolas said in the same, deadly tone of voice while stepping closer to Legolas.

"Yes." Legolas whispered, too frightened to make more sound than that.

"Then I suggest you watch your back when we journey to Rivendell. You'd never know where an accident might lay hidden, though I'm sure that ada won't really mind if you don't come back." Aerolas said on a threatening, deadly tone. Legolas was no match for his skill in words, it was so easy to make the foolish little elf believe everything he said.

Aerolas prepared himself to leave the flet. He didn't want to be seen with his brother in the same space. He'd much rather sleep on the flet that his guards were on, they were at least fun to talk with. But before he left, he turned around.

"Oh, Legolas, you might want to get a good night's rest tonight. Who knows when you'll get the next one."

With those words, Aerolas left the flet, leaving Legolas behind. The older Mirkwood prince knew the punishment of betrayal – banishment from all elven kingdoms. He knew it was a death sentence, nobody would survive very long on their own in the wilderness. He knew that he had betrayed Aerolas, the rest of the patrol and consequently the rest of Mirkwood – and he was frightened. He was weak, stupid and dumb and he wouldn't survive long out in the wilds. If he was banished or, as Aerolas implied to do, left behind, he knew he'd die. And that thought frightened him.

The small elven prince curled up, unelfish as it was, on himself, alone and frightened, and cried himself softly to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Please review!  
**


	10. The Mirror in the Glade

**A/N: Hi everyone! I've almost finished school for this year, only three days of tests to go (Boo!) before I go to Rome for two weeks (Yay!). I hope I can write something more before I go to Italy, but I'm not sure. I'll try to write as much as possible in the few weeks after Rome, because my computer time is going to be fairly limited during the holiday. Something about going outside. Hmpf. Why would you go outside when there are perfectly good fanfictions waiting to be read/written inside? Must be an adult thing...**

**Anyways, I've come to realise that I totally forgot to thank all the people who reviewed my story! What an ass am I! So, I hereby offer my humble thanks (and a set of digital cookies, self made!) to anyone who reviewed! You all made me continue writing The Fears of a Prince! Thank you!**

**Now, for a few reactions to reviews/questions:**

**Baggyender: I know that The Fears of a Prince is quite similiar to The Truth in Those Sad Eyes (by Fantasia of the Moon), I have mentioned (or should have mentioned) that it is my main inspiration source somewhere in the author's notes of the earlier chapters. I admit, there are similiarities between the two stories, but, in my opinion, there are a lot of differences too. The role of Galadriel is different, as well as the whole of Lothlorien, and I have fighting and orcs in my story (which I plan to form a storyline/subplot with). So yes, there are similiarities, but I think there are more differences between the two stories. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion though, this is just my reaction.**

**anonymous: With 'betrayal' I meant the fact that Legolas relinquished his weapons to the elf in the forest (Haldir), while the rest of the troupe refused to do so. One of their own broke rank, so they see it (or at least Aerolas sees it) as betrayal.**

**OhShirleyUJest: You're right in your assumption that it is at least two hundred years before the Fellowship of the Ring. I had planned it to be a bit further even, about 900 years (or so). In my rendition of elven ages, maturity is reached at 1500. Legolas is now (roughly) 900 years old (Aerolas is roughly 700), so in the Fellowship of the Ring, Legolas will be 1800. **

**Again, thank you all for your reviews. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!**

**Matt**

* * *

The next morning, Legolas woke up by the sound of someone climbing towards his flet. He quickly sat up straight, it wouldn't do for a prince to be caught curled up like a scared infant, especially not for a prince of Mirkwood, where the rulers were renowned for the control over their emotions.

"My prince?" A voice called from just below the flet. Apparently the elf, for it was an elfish voice, didn't want to walk in on a sleeping prince unannounced.

"Yes?" Legolas answered.

The elf climbed the last few sports of the ladder, reaching the flet where Legolas was.

"Lady Galadriel requests your presence in her glade." The elf said. His voice sounded familiar, but Legolas couldn't exactly place it. Suddenly he remembered, it was the same voice that had called to them from the trees. The elven escorts on the way to the city had said his name was Haldir.

"Yes, I will be there momentarily. Thank you, Haldir." Legolas said.

As Haldir climbed down from the flet, his mind was busy questioning what he had heard and seen. He was sure the prince hadn't heard his name being spoken from the guards, and he hadn't been in the city until late last night, when his watch ended, so it was highly unlikely that the prince had heard his name spoken there, given that he had retired for the night fairly early. So how did the prince, prince Legolas, if he remembered correctly, know his name?

And then there was the strange feeling he had around him. First, when the prince had stepped forward with his wounded comrade on his horse, Haldir had shaken it off as being fazed by his actions, but now, in the fresh dawn of morning, he couldn't deny that he felt strange around the prince. Legolas, if that was his name, had had such a haunted – nay, hunted would be a better description – and frightened look in his eyes behind the emotionless mask. It felt off, it reeked of something wrong. But alas, it was not his place to just barge in on the prince's personal life. His only orders now were to escort the prince to the Lady's Glade.

"Haldir?" A voice came from behind him.

"I am to escort you to the Lady's Glade, my prince." Haldir said as he turned around.

The prince was... not what he had expected. It is one thing to see someone on a horse, behind a wounded comrade, and another to see someone only barely awake and half-sitting, but neither of those give an exceptionally clear view of someone. So Haldir was certainly surprised when he saw that the prince would only barely reach to his chest, and even more when he saw that he couldn't have been much broader than an elfling only barely out of his childhood. He had seen the other prince move around Lothlorien yesterday eve, and he was sure that the other prince was much and much taller, and broader too. But, if he had understood Lord Celeborn well, this was the older prince, older by at least a century. So why didn't he look it?

"Very well." Legolas spoke softly, much softer than Haldir would have imagined a prince to speak. Not that he knew many princes save for the princes of Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir, but neither of them acted very prince-like.

Haldir nodded, and led the prince to the Lady's Glade. It was an honour to be invited there, only very few ever got a chance to see it.

* * *

Galadriel sensed that the young prince in front of her was feeling very uneasy, to the point of frightened. She had invited him into her Glade, she felt it was right to let him watch into the Mirror. But the prince looked different than yesterday, though she hadn't seen him up this close then. Not that it should have mattered much, but distance can still be a decisive factor for the sight of elven eyes. Underneath the emotionless mask he wore, he looked like a scared animal – frightened of everything that moved. It was very disconcerting.

"Come, Legolas." She said as she led him into a small clearing.

She could see the young prince looking around in amazement, his eyes soaking up the sight of the small clearing. It was hidden between a group of big boulders –where a small spring was – and a strangely shaped set of Mallorn trees. They were set particularly close to each other, and they had very big stems, which easily obscured the Glade from outside views. Galadriel held a pitcher under a small waterfall formed by the spring, and poured it onto a small slab of solid black stone set upon a small footing, her mirror.

"Come, Legolas. Gaze into the mirror for me, but beware of what you see. It might be the future, the present or the past, or it might not even happen. Judge your visions wisely."

Legolas moved towards the stone uncertainly, and she could easily see that he was frightened. He gazed into the dark depths of the liquid cautiously. At first he saw nothing but the shimmering black of the solid stone, but as he gazed on he saw visions appearing.

A gold-haired elf and a red-haired dwarf riding on a horse together, laughing merrily. They seemed to have a great time together, talking and laughing freely. They were friends. Legolas looked at the elf more closely. He was built quite slender, though not frail like him. He looked to be tall, though that was hard to see since he was sitting on a horse, and he had soft, blue eyes, much like he himself. Legolas realised with a shock that this elf could very well be him, a future version of him.

But before Legolas could gaze further into the vision, another vision appeared. Two brown haired elves, alike enough to be twins, were looking angrily at a very dirty small boy. He stuck out his tongue and ran away, the two brown-haired elves chasing after him. He could hear harsh words being spoken, but he could not understand which ones and to whom.

Legolas tried to see what happened to the little boy and the two brown-haired elves, concerning himself over the fate of the little boy because he knew what it felt like to be spoken to harshly, but he was carried on to another vision. This time a slightly older boy, looking just like previous one – even down to the smudges of dirt on his nose – was running through a forest. Legolas could sense and see dark beasts chasing the little boy, and he could see him running for his life.

The little boy stumbled upon a clearing and sprinted towards the other side. The orcs, dark and hideous beasts, reached the clearing and they let out sounds of evil pleasure as the saw the little boy being trapped by one of their comrades. A very large orc was holding a knife over the little boy's chest, threatening to stab him.

The orc that was holding the little boy suddenly tensed, and Legolas could see two arrows protruding from the creature's head. He fell backwards, taking the small boy with him in his fall.

The remainder of the orcs charged towards where they had thought the arrows had came from, not wanting to let their prize escape. But before they could reach the edge of the clearing, two brown haired elves came setting out. It were exactly the same ones as in the previous vision, but they ran towards the little boy to help him. They picked off the orcs fast and precise, and soon they had formed a protective barrier around him using their bows, swords and bodies. Legolas saw in their eyes that they were willing to die to protect the small boy they had seemingly wanted to harm in the previous vision.

The vision changed, and Legolas moved on. This time, however, there was no feeling of distance between him and the vision. A feeling of lingering darkness became larger and more prominent. It was the same darkness that one felt when approaching Dol Guldur, in the south of Mirkwood. A menacing, threatening darkness that left you feeling helpless and completely hopeless. Legolas got frightened by the feeling, but could not detach himself from it. He fought against the dark fingers trying to invade his mind, trying to keep them out. It was pulling him in, pulling him into the ever-threatening abyss of dark, hate and evil. Even in his darkest nightmares, Legolas had not felt such a despair. He struggled viciously against the tendrils of dark thoughts that threatened to pull him into the dark, into the evil clutches of Sauron, but he was losing the battle. He wasn't strong enough.

With a large, last effort he pushed as hard as he could away from the stone tablet, and this time his limbs did cooperate, for the darkness had already disappeared like it had never been there. The small elf was unable to compensate for the sudden movement, and toppled over, landing ungraciously on his backside.

Galadriel shot the elf a surprised look. In all the years, centuries and aeons that people, elves mostly, had gazed into her mirror, only very few had shown such a physically strong reaction. In fact, she could recall none that had such a heavy reaction to the visions of the mirror. She moved over towards the small elf, stretching her hand out to help him up. He took her hand cautiously and stood up without putting pressure on it. He lowered his gaze to the ground in a habit.

"Do you wish to speak about the visions, Prince Legolas?" Galadriel asked.

"Would that be wise, milady?" Legolas said softly. "The visions I saw in the mirror may have already happened, there is nothing we can do about them. Or they may be happening now, but there is very little we can do. And the ones that have not happened yet will happen, so what can we do to interfere?"

"You speak wise words for someone your age, Prince Legolas. Very few would share your views, but the ones that do are numbered among the wise of Middle Earth." Galadriel said, complimenting the young prince. She had not expected his answer.

"It is better to think and act accordingly, than act and think accordingly, milady."

"That is true, my prince, but sometimes one must act on impulse and feeling, and on the guidance of the Valar. What does your feeling say about the visions?" Galadriel asked.

Legolas thought for a moment, and then started. "I think that the first vision should give hope. A dwarf and an elf riding together like friends will shatter the old grudges and feuds between the elves and dwarves that has lasted much too long, and will open the way to friendship. The second and third vision show that appearances and actions may deceive a person's true intentions, that one's actions do not always match one's feelings."

"Again you speak wise words, young prince. Not many have shown such wisdom after the visions of the mirror. The future will be hopeful if you act as you have just spoken, and you will be part of it." Galadriel said, sensing that the young prince needed at least some encouragement if he were to gain enough confidence to play his part in the grand scheme of Middle Earth.

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**A/N: Reviews are welcome!**


	11. Rivendell

**A/N: Hello! I apologize for the quite-long delay, I have been quite busy going to Rome with school for a good week and a half. Rome was simply amazing, we saw a lot of things I would have done of as 'boring' before, but which turned out to be quite interesting. After all I certainly wouldn't have guessed that there was such a thing as a public sounding board in Rome, where citizens can complain against the government anonymously, much less think that that public sounding board is actually a centuries-old statue of a Roman river god. Anyway, we had a lot of fun there, learned a lot of new stuff (like shouting 'BEER!' in the middle of a square at 11 o'clock at night is the fastest way to assemble a hundred 16-18 year olds, but also a sure-fire way to attract attention of anyone within hearing range.), saw a lot of old stuff (and some not-quite-so-old stuff) and we (as in my group of friends and I) discovered the magical world of planking. None of us was particularly good at it, but at least the scenery was nice (not counting the planking photos we made in an 2,600 year old burial mound). **

**Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. I had fun writing the last parts, especially Elrond's musing. I hadn't realised that Lothlorien is a lot more southwards than Rivendell until I grabbed an online map of Middle Earth, I had written most of this chapter already, so I was quite happily surprised that I still remembered most of my Middle-Earthean geography. If only I would have remembered normal geography, but alas. If any of you were wondering, 'Araukalasse' means 'swift leaf'.  
**

**Sorry for this prolonged author's note, I'm in full rambling mode right now because I'm quite high on sugar. Blame the candy.**

**Reviews are welcome (as always)**

**Enjoy!**

**Edit: OhShirleyUJest pointed out to me in a review that a broken foreleg would most likely kill a horse. I don't plan on letting horses die just yet, so therefore this repost of the chapter.  
**

* * *

"Elrond." Galadriel started as her mind sought the connection to Elrond's.

"Yes, my Lady?" He answered, opening and strengthening the connection with his mind.

"You will have guests this winter."

"I take it that they are important, since you warned me about them. Is it reason for worry, or cause for hope?"

"Mayhap it is cause to worry, and reason to hope?" Galadriel said, sending her sweetest and most mysterious grin to Elrond over the telepathic connection.

Elrond let out a mental sigh "You speak in riddles again, milady. Need I worry, or should I rejoice?"

"Both. If you do one correctly, it will help bring the other."

"Riddles will not help me in understanding what you want me to do, milady." Elrond stated.

"My dear lord Elrond, you should know by now that I don't need understanding, and neither do you."

"Your riddles begin to worry me, milady. Should I prepare for these guests, wherever they may come from?"

"Remember what it was like long ago, Elrond. Then everything will be as it was supposed to be." Galadriel said before she closed the connection.

"How long ago, milady? I have lived long enough to call most of my life 'long ago'."

"You needn't worry about details, yet they are the only way you will ever understand."

Elrond let out another mental sigh at his mother-in-law's mysterious riddles and manipulations. "Very well, milady."

Galadriel gave him another of her most mysterious mental smiles, which only served to annoy him greatly, and then closed the connection.

* * *

Merely two days after Legolas had gazed into Galadriel's mirror, the troupe had set out from Lothlorien to make it to Rivendell before the first winter snow hit the passes of the Misty Mountains. Elparion was healed as adequately as could be in the short time, not enough to be back to full health but enough to move about unaided.

The group of riders was nearing Rivendell through a pass just south of the Last Homely Home west of the Misty Mountains. They were passing through a small gorge, only several feet lower than the rest of the plateau. The edges of the gorge were rocky and brittle, the stone worn away by the many storms that plagued the mountains and years of frost in the winter and scorching heat in the summer, and many traces of fallen rocks could be seen near the edges. If it were up to Legolas he would have chosen to take a slightly different route, a longer one but one with a smoother path. There were numerous small and treacherous rocks in and on the path in front of them, though with the entire surrounding area being made of brittle stone that was hardly a surprise, and it would prove quite a challenge for the horses, even the elven ones they were riding, to make it through unscathed. The troupe slowed down, reducing their speed to a mere trot, to reduce the risk of injured horses.

The first few hundred yards of the treacherous and rocky path were ridden carefully and without accident. But as fate would have it, Aerolas' horse misstepped to the right, only an inch out of the treacherously narrow, but nonetheless stable, track of a cart that had passed through not too long ago. But that inch proved to be vital for the balance of a small rock, which suddenly shot loose. Aerulen, Aerolas's horse, ducked forwards to compensate for the loss of a stable right leg to stand on, sending Aerolas nearly flying.

"What is wrong with you?" Aerolas said angrily to Aerulen, though more surprised at almost being sent flying. The unfortunate rock had sprained the horse's right ankle, and the he was in considerable pain from it, so he wouldn't move.

Legolas turned around from his position on his own mare, Araukalasse, and observed the situation in the blink of an eye. He saw that Aerulen was in pain, he could see it clearly in the horse's eyes, and he saw that he constantly lifted his right leg from the ground. Legolas quickly deduced that Aerulen must have sprained his ankle, something that was not uncommon and certainly understandable on this particular stretch of path in the Misty Mountains.

"Aerolas." Legolas said. "Aerulen's ankle is at least sprained. He can't walk anymore without treating it first."

"Fine." Aerolas said with a scowl.

He jumped of Aerulen's back with all the elvin grace he could muster and grabbed a small pouch of medicinal herbs from his saddle bag. He crouched down near the horse's front leg and ordered him to keep his leg up, to begin applying the herbs. But as soon as Aerolas had crouched down and tried touching the leg, the horse had become frightened. He started bucking, moving backwards to get away from Aerolas. The sprain must have been a very bad one for it was very unusual for an elven horse to act so fearful towards its master.

"What is wrong with you?" Aerolas said angrily again, but this time angry at the action of the horse rather than at the unfortunate circumstances. He tried to grab Aerulen's leg again, but the horse only bucked harder and let out a scared whinny.

"Aerolas, stop!" Legolas said while jumping off his own horse with, much to Aerolas's growing chagrin, more natural grace than he. The small elf took a few steps and seized Aerulen's reins, which the horse had pulled loose from Aerolas's hands only moments before.

Normally, when an horse starts bucking in fright like Aerulen did, even if it was an elvish horse, very little can calm it down. So it was quite a shock to see the little elf put his hand on Aerulen's head – even if he had to stand on his toes to reach it – and see the horse calm down almost immediately. After only a few moments, Aerulen let out a whinny of acceptance, and raised his leg for Legolas to look at.

Legolas crouched down to look at the injured leg, making him look very small in comparison to the big horse. After a few gentle touches of the little elf's fingers, Aerulen started protesting again from the pain.

"I think it's a sprain." Legolas said as he stood up and took a few steps back to give Aerulen more room. "And a pretty bad one too."

"Blasted." Aerolas cursed. A horse with a sprained leg would slow them immensely down. It's very hard for horses to walk with an injury on their foreleg, since they put most of their weight on them

"I think we are going to need to walk the rest of the way to Rivendell. Luckily it's not that far anymore, we should be able to make it in two days." Legolas said.

"Fine. We'll load everything on the horses and walk the rest of the way as you suggest." Aerolas said.

* * *

When the party reached the edges of Rivendell by the end of the second day, they were thoroughly drenched. It had been pouring like mad since dawn, but they had no choice but to keep going. None of them knew the terrain well enough to know of any caves in the immediate area, and none of them was willing to cover extra distance on foot in search for shelter.

At the edge of the valley of Rivendell, the troupe was confronted by the sentries.

"Halt! Who passes into Rivendell?" the sentry asked, hidden somewhere in the trees to the right of them.

"Prince Aerolas and Prince Legolas of Greenwood the Great, on a diplomatic errand for King Thranduil, king of Greenwood the Great." Aerolas replied.

"You are welcome in Rivendell, the last Homely Home west of the Misty Mountains." The sentry said, appearing from the tree line.

* * *

Not long after they had entered the valley of Rivendell, the entire troupe of elves stood in the welcome hall of the famous elfish home. Of course, they were still drenched from their involuntary day out in the rain, and they were dripping water all over the expensive carpet. The owner of said carpet, Lord Elrond himself, was just finishing welcoming them in his home.

"I understand if you want to refresh before doing anything else." He said. "I will show you to your rooms."

Aerolas and Legolas followed him, while the rest of the group was led away by servants.

Elrond observed the two princes as they walked to their rooms. This was half of the reason why he had chosen to escort them himself, the other half was to escape Erestor's ten-thousand two-hundred and eighty-fifth complaint about his two sons. He was in his full right to complain, the two rascals had 'borrowed' all of Erestors precious books and they had hidden them all over Rivendell. Elrond was secretly quite proud of them actually working to get something done, it must have been quite the task to even find enough places for over two-hundred books to be hidden. Not that he would outwardly show it, especially around Erestor. Without the old elf by his side, he would hardly be able to relax occasionally. So Elrond listened to Erestor's complaints, as long as there was nothing better to do.

The elder of the two princes, the bigger one, looked like he was in quite a mood. He could certainly understand that, having to drench through this weather for a day would make any elf quite a bit grumpy, but it seemed to have no effect on the other prince, the smaller one. He could barely be older than an elfling, given the childish wonder with which he gaped at nearly everything around him. Tapestries, paintings, even everyday objects like tables and vases (or the carpet, Elrond's pride and joy), everything had his attention.

Elrond almost grinned at seeing the smaller prince look around like it was his first time out of a cave, which, Elrond realized a second later, was probably an adequate description. Oh he could remember the times that Elladan and Elrohir, his two sons, would look around like that. Of course, they had stopped that behaviour when they were quite a lot younger than the prince was, but he had never sent his sons to Mirkwood. Maybe that was a fitting idea for a punishment when they had done something that couldn't be ignored, but wasn't so bad that they'd have to be grounded for a time. Yes, that would be quite fitting for his sons, Elrond mused.

Elrond's mind wandered back to the princes. If both of them were anything like their father (and judging by looks alone, the bigger prince certainly was), he'd be in for a very hard time. Thranduil was as stubborn as a pigheaded old mule, and would have most likely filled his sons head with propaganda about him and his 'deceitful words'. He wasn't deceitful with words, he was merely ... cautious and careful with wording them. It made him diplomatic, Elrond reasoned.

"These are your rooms." Elrond said as he gestured to two identical doors on opposite sides of a hallway.

"Dinner is served in the Dinner Hall in an hour, any of the servants will guide you there if you get lost. I must bid both of you goodbye for now." Elrond let out a polite nod and walked away.

Aerolas and Legolas both bowed their heads as Elrond passed. As soon as Elrond had left, Aerolas turned around and entered the door that was closest to him, claiming the room as his. Legolas chose the remaining room as his, and entered.

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**A/N: Please review! I want to know if the story needs more humor, or if I need to lay off the candy and write more serious chapters.  
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	12. The Storm

**A/N: Hi everybody! I'm back from my summer holiday (2 weeks in southern France, near the Atlantic) and I'm really glad to have access to internet. Stupid French campings don't even have wi-fi. Luckily I did have my laptop, so I could write this chapter (and the next, but I'm not quite satisfied with that one so I'm going to fight it into something I like). Researching has been ... complicated a bit by the lack of internet, but I could write well enough without certain variables (such as names). I didn't spend my whole holiday holed up behind my laptop however, I spent at least a week jumping head first in 6-foot tall waves (well, from where I stood they were all 6 foot tall. The ones that actually were that tall, were very rare), only to be dragged with the wave back to the beach, land ungracefully on whatever bodypart had the unfortunate luck to be closest to the beach and run back into sea. It was fun!**

**But anyways, I had ideas aplenty for this story (amongst others), so I've written quite a lot. This chapter is longer without author's note than the last one is with. I'm quite content with this chapter, so I hope you are too. Oh, and for the inquisitive minds: No, this will not be a slash story between Legolas and Glorfindel. I won't go further than a Platonic relationship (ignore the irony of the word 'Platonic') between the two, because I'm a really crappy smut-writer. Something that is, in my opinion, inherent to being a boy my age. **

**I have noticed that I have only sporadically thanked any reviewers, so I hereby wish to say thanks to all of you. Your reactions and advice have greatly improved my writing, and this is my most reviewed story by far! So thank you all!**

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

After having settled in their respective rooms, which were quite up to standards (though Aerolas found them to be only barely satisfactory, and Legolas thought they were more than perfect), both princes made their way to dinner.

Meals in the House of Elrond, Rivendell, were famous for their etiquette. So much even, that only very rarely did people (elves, mostly, but sometimes humans joined the meal, and very occasionally the odd wizard – Gandalf – or Dwarves in need) actually enjoy the meal. It was more a social undertaking than an actual meal, more of an intricate meeting with various political leaders in setting so drenched in etiquette and norms that they could almost be tasted.

Luckily for them, both Aerolas and Legolas had been trained almost since birth for this kind of social undertakings. Aerolas was more at ease naturally with others than Legolas, who was usually very silent during mealtimes in Mirkwood. But even the older prince conversed quite a lot, once his shields were worn down by continuous attempts to start a conversation by one of the elves of Rivendell on his one side, and the leader of the Rangers of the North on the other. It was safe to say, of course, that the younger prince had conversed with nearly everybody by the time the first course was finished, and had formed 'friendships' – depending on their usefulness – with half of them.

Both princes survived the usually strenuous meal, quite successfully actually. Legolas learned a lot about the state of the North and the West of the Misty Mountains, and he had earned the approval of both the Rivendell elf, Lindir the minstrel, and of Aravir, son of Aranuir, the Ranger Chieftain, by the end of the meal.

But as the meal ended and moved on to the Hall of Fire for entertainment and further conversations for the night, more and more elves left. Legolas saw his chance clean to make a discreet escape to the outer gardens of Rivendell.

* * *

After he had left the Hall of Fire, which was filled with elves and a few rangers as well, Legolas made his way towards the gardens of Rivendell. The gardens were famous, throughout elfin lands at least, for their rare flowers and other kinds of plants. Many herbs in were medicinal in nature, and most of them could only be found in the carefully tended gardens of the Last Homely Home west of the Misty Mountains. It was even rumoured among the elves of Mirkwood that there were plants from Valinor in the private herb garden of Lord Elrond. They were said to heal even the gravest of wounds, a skill for which Lord Elrond was known for as a healer.

As Legolas made his way through the gardens, his senses were assaulted by the smell of the many flowers and herbs in the air, but a heavy, oppressing feeling as well. It seemed that the storm which had drenched them in rain earlier today had temporarily ebbed in power, but wasn't about to go away. The air felt like there was a heavy thunderstorm coming.

Legolas observed the many elves and the occasional ranger frolic around in the garden. Several couples were seated on benches in secluded areas, others were strolling around and admiring the view and the smells. Legolas made his way towards one of the more secluded areas, which was sheltered from the light and the sound of the hall of fire by a hedge made of a plant Legolas couldn't exactly place. It looked like a bush common to Mirkwood, the Elventhorn, but it wore no thorns and where Elventhorn rarely grew higher than one feet, this one was at least five feet in height. In the clearing that was behind the hedge were a couple of benches - one placed at either side of the only path. It was quite deserted, but to Legolas, it didn't feel lonely.

Legolas allowed himself to relax, for the first time in Rivendell. He was normally closed around people, choosing to wear the mask of the emotionless prince most of the time, and didn't generally relax until he was sure he was out of sight. He was alone in this section of the gardens, luckily for him, so he could be at ease.

* * *

Having observed most of the plants and herbs in sight in a good half hour – which was quite useless without an explanation of the names, functions and properties of the plants he didn't know – he chose to look at the stars. That was not often done in Mirkwood, partially because of the trees that obscured most of the sight and partially because spiders didn't hide between the stars. But the Mirkwood elves were still elves, and therefore it was in their nature to watch the stars. So Legolas sat back watching the stars, content for now.

* * *

A long time later, Legolas was startled out of his daze by a sound. He had, quite common amongst elves, drowsed away from watching the stars. The action of watching them was so akin for sleeping to them that it was almost impossible to distinguish an elf sitting still and observing the stars from one sleeping away in the place where elves go when they dream.

"I rarely see an elf so aware when asleep." A voice from Legolas's right said.

The small elf turned around and saw Lord Glorfindel, the most imposing amongst the Lords of Rivendell, standing to his right.

"Don't try to deny you were asleep, I can see well enough the difference between a sleeping and an awake elf." Glorfindel said with a smile. He was expecting the Mirkwood prince to deny falling asleep in the gardens, like Erestor always did when he caught him asleep. But strangely enough, the lithe elven prince seemed to accept his words without a problem, even moving over a bit on the bench to invite him to sit.

"A storm is brewing." Legolas said when Glorfindel had settled down on the bench. If you didn't know the two elves weren't related, they could be passed off for father and son. Both were alike enough blond, both had blue eyes and Legolas was certainly a lot younger than the imposing elf lord.

"There is always a storm brewing in the east." Glorfindel replied.

"I don't like storms." Legolas said.

"Neither do I, but I cannot control them. So I must face them and withstand them instead."

"What will happen if we fail?"

"Then all will be lost." Glorfindel asked.

Legolas was silent for a few minutes, pondering over Glorfindels answers.

"You've watched in Galadriel's mirror." Glorfindel concluded.

Legolas looked at the older elf with a questioning look.

"I can see it in your eyes. You worry about what you have seen, you worry it may come to pass and everything will be lost forever." Glorfindel said.

"I ..." Legolas started, but paused and let out a sigh. "I fear the darkness."

"I cannot honestly tell you I do not fear the dark." Glorfindel started with a sigh. "But we must keep hope in the faith that every storm will pass."

"But what will happen once the storm hits? And what will pass in the storm?" Legolas said.

"You have seen in the mirror what can happen if the storm passes." Glorfindel said.

Legolas shot Glorfindel a questioning look. The older elf couldn't know – could he?

"Hmpf." Glorfindel snorted.

"The lady's mirror has been showing the same things for eternity." He clarified. "It is always the next storm that will come to pass, or maybe another storm further up ahead. I have looked into the mirror myself a long time ago, and only a few more times before my return. But the mirror will show the same thing over and over again, the same sort of predictions of the future that will come to pass in a completely different way than you have seen."

After the older elf's words, both were silent for a while.

"Have you seen it?" Legolas asked.

"Seen what?" Glorfindel said.

"Have you seen ... the eye?" Legolas asked, very softly, afraid to speak of it.

Glorfindel let out a sigh before answering. "Only once, of all the times I watched that dreadful mirror have I seen the eye, and that was a long time ago, before the fall of Sauron. But this is grave news indeed, that the eye has been seen in the mirror. Tell me, when did you gaze into the mirror?"

"Not more than a fortnight ago, when we were in Lothlorien." Legolas said softly. "The fourth vision I saw, the vision with the eye, was different from the others. It felt like pure evil, like it was trying to draw me in and drain me from energy. As if it were trying to suck me through the mirror and eat me alive, only by the feel of it. It's gaze was burning, as if a hot iron was scorching my soul without leaving marks. I felt powerless, completely and utterly worthless." The small elf let out a shiver of fear from the memory.

"It is indeed grave and worrying news you bring here. My own experiences with the eye and it's owner are not even as vivid as you have described, but it comes close to what it felt like before I died." Glorfindel said. "Though it must be said that I have never come close enough to it to feel what you have just described."

Glorfindel took a look at the young elf that was next to him on the bench in the gardens of Rivendell. He was curled up in fear, like he was reliving the memory. He was shivering, despite the relatively warm weather. It was almost strangely warm for this time of the year, so it was still quite pleasant to be outside. Glorfindel noticed that the elf looked very, very small, only an elfling not yet really out of his childhood. It struck him as strange, since he knew that both of the Mirkwood princes were old enough, if his information was correct, to be seen as adults in body. And this prince looked like a quite young elfling in body, but in mind he was like an elf that had seen more than one age.

His attention was drawn back from his thoughts by the small prince pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them. He looked even smaller than before now, with almost un-princelike frail arms circling his legs and a blond head resting on the knees. Glorfindel could guess what was bothering the young prince. He'd seen the eye when it was less powerful - a very long time ago, that was - and it had been emotionally very draining. He could certainly understand the young prince feeling ... depressed by the vision.

"If you feel troubled by what you have seen in the mirror, you can always talk to Elrond." Glorfindel said softly, about to admit something more personal than he had admitted to any stranger in a long time. "He has helped me very often when I was troubled by what I had seen or encountered."

The doubtful look that the little elfin prince shot him was enough to confirm the suspicions he had already had on account of how Thranduil had prepared his sons for their first meeting with Elrond.

"I do not exactly know you what Thranduil has told you about Elrond, but I can guess that it would be something along the lines were he would deceive you with words and talk you into things you would not dream of doing. I know you will probably not trust him, but I can honestly tell you that Elrond has always helped me when I was troubled by things."

Glorfindel paused to prepare what he was going to say. It was important, it could affect how the Mirkwood Prince looked at Elrond – and consequently Rivendell – forever.

"And it is true, but not commonly known, that Elrond and Thranduil have an old feud. A family feud, so to speak. I don't know what it is about, nor how it started, because it isn't my place to speak, but I do know that Mirkwood and Rivendell have had an ... uneasy relationship for as long as I can remember."

The small elf nodded, and relaxed a bit. Glorfindel copied the action after a few moments, relaxing on the bench in the gardens of Rivendell, watching the stars.

* * *

The storm both Legolas and Glorfindel had seen coming, broke loose that night. Blinding flashes of lighting were followed by harsh claps of thunder, accompanied by winds that pushed against the buildings of Rivendell and rain that pelted everything in sight. It was like Manwë himself had lifted up the ocean and blown it over the West. Even the power of Elrond had no answer for this force of nature, no answer to the torrents of rain, the thundering booms of thunder and lightning and the raging winds that accompanied them, and it was for this reason that almost all elves retreated inside, closed as many doors and windows as possible and assembled around the fires in the larger halls. Among the ones that didn't venture towards the safety of the fires was our little elfin prince.

Legolas was horribly afraid of storms. He knew it was childish and very unbecoming of a prince to be afraid for such trivial things as storms, and he knew that storms couldn't hit him inside, but he couldn't help being terribly afraid of them. He had always been sensitive to sounds, especially sudden eruptions of noise like thunder, and the loud, rolling booms startled the small prince. After the first clap of thunder he hid as far underneath the bedcovers as possible, covered his ears with his hands and tried to stop being so worthlessly afraid.

He hated himself for being so unbecomingly afraid of storms. Elves shouldn't fear storms, they shouldn't be frightened by mere sound and light, by water and wind. He was a prince, and princes shouldn't be afraid of anything. And yet, Legolas was. He hated the loud noises, thunder only predicted something bad. It had stormed on the day that his mother had died, most Orcs attacked during times of storm, his father's mood was always the worst during a storm and even Aerolas knew – and abused – the fact that Legolas was frightened by storms.

A harsh clap of thunder struck, and the small prince startled and huddled closer underneath the bedcovers. He was bad, worthless, for being afraid of storms like this. He wasn't worth to be a prince, or even an elf. Elves aren't afraid of storms, and neither are princes. He was foolishly stupid, a pathetic child not fit to be a prince at all.

Delicate tears formed in Legolas' eyes as he realised that his father's and brother's words were indeed true. He was a disgrace to his family, to his kind, he was unworthy and unfit to be a prince or even an elf. Nobody wanted him, and with good reason, for he was just a useless burden.

The small and lithe elf underneath the bedcovers curled in on himself and cried. He didn't deserve to live like a prince, he didn't deserve to live at all. Maybe it was best if he just died. He was a burden for his family and his kingdom, and he had been for as long as he lived.

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**A/N: I feel sorry for Legolas, and for having to end the chapter on this depressing note, but I felt I needed to stop here. There'll be (most likely) more depressing things for Legolas in the next chapter, but I certainly do plan to make him into the happy prince Tolkien portrays.**


	13. Something off About the Nightmare

**A/N: Hello everybody! As I'm quite sure you all noticed, this chapter is way earlier than my usual schedule for posting - meaning once a month - but I had already written it and I figured I was quite done altering it after ten different read-overs. It's only been five days since the last chapter, so I don't have a lot of things to say in this author's note really. In fact, I think I'm quite done here already, so enjoy the latest chapter!**

**Reviews are welcome!**

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The storm had been raging for several hours, it was far past midnight already, when Aerolas thought it fitting to make a visit to his brother. It was always great fun to see him startle with every clap of thunder. He liked storms himself a lot too. Storms were like the perfect force of nature – they were the most powerful and imposing weather types he knew of – and if you survived the storm, you survived the worst that the weather could throw at you. To him it was like a battle, a war to be waged with the wind and the lightning. To win that war was ... exhilarating.

Plus, during storms his father's mood was always the worst, and usually Legolas wore the brunt of that anger. He thought it great fun to see Thranduil get mad at Legolas, to see him shout at his brother. Of course he would apologize – or try to – to Legolas afterwards, but it was still fun to see. And the few odd times that Thranduil found noting with Legolas he could get angry at during times of storms– and they were quite rare – Aerolas made sure he was out of the firing line. Too bad that storms weren't common in Mirkwood.

With a loud 'slam' he burst open the door to Legolas's room. Legolas, who had been hiding underneath the bedcovers in the corner of his bed and the wall, flinched. The movement immediately drew his attention – as it would do to anybody. Sometimes his brother was so weak and stupid – revealing his position to anyone entering the room immediately. If he'd been an assassin, Legolas would already be dead. So unbecoming for a prince.

"Hello little brother." Aerolas said to the miserable pile of elf that lay curled up in the corner. "Nice weather, isn't it?"

Big, hunted blue eyes stared at their brothers, with still-wet tear tracks running downwards from them to where they had been wiped away messily.

"Awww. Is poor little Leggy afraid of thunder? Afraid of the big bad bangs?" Aerolas said in a mock-sweet tone, using the nickname Legolas had carried when he had only been a babe. "Does the little Leggy need a hug?"

Aerolas knew full well that Legolas was deprived of such things as friendly hugs and pats on the back, he could see the small elf look with longing every time a parent praised their child when he was near. He knew full well that Legolas craved tender touches, and he was going to play with him just a little bit.

Aerolas sat down on the bed and held open his arms for Legolas to come and get a hug. "Come here then, little brother."

Though wary and hesitant, the little elf in the corner fell for the faked caring tone Aerolas displayed, and he cautiously stretched out a hand with a look of frightened hope in his eyes. Maybe his brother would be nice to him, even if only this once.

Aerolas saw the little elf hesitate, and he decided he needed to put something extra in. He willed his face into a benign smile, and kept his arms open for his brother.

Little by little bit did Legolas crawl closer to his brother. He knew there was quite possible – almost certainly – some kind of plan behind this, but Thranduil was far away, too far for any hurtful words to reach, and too far to see Legolas so weak, so Legolas' guard was lowered. Eventually, he was almost completely nestled into his brother's side, an position that further visualized their big differences in size.

Little, child-like Legolas only barely reached the pit of Aerolas's arm in this position on the bed. He was very frail and thin, carrying the waif-like physique of a lost elfling, whereas Aerolas was strong and broad, like a warrior in his prime. Legolas was curled up and shivering in fear, but Aerolas sat up straight and appeared calm, even though he was inwardly excited.

"Little Leggy wants a hug?" Aerolas asked in his expertly faked sweet tone.

Legolas looked at his brother with a hopeful look in his eyes. Maybe, maybe he could finally be liked by his brother. Maybe Aerolas would be nice to him now. But it didn't matter, for even if Aerolas had been cursing him and insulting him in every possible way, Legolas would still have sought the closest body to curl up to. He couldn't help but to crave tender touches and warmth, because he had never gotten them after his mother had died a long time ago.

"Well then you'll have to go and get it somewhere else." Aerolas said, the sweet tone completely belying his words.

Legolas kept his hopeful look, but then it dawned on him what his brother had said. Before he could shoot a questioning look at his brother, Aerolas had grabbed him whole and, in one quick movement, threw Legolas off the bed and into the corner.

Legolas landed in the corner with a painful thud before cowering into the smallest ball possible. Soft sobs of shame and defeat, of misery and fear of more hurt to come, started flowing from the small elf as it dawned on him that Aerolas had tricked him again – and that he fell for it despite everything he should have learned.

Aerolas stood up quickly and went to stand directly in front of Legolas to intimidate him. This normally always caused the small elf to back up and look like a frightened deer, but now the little worthless heap of elf was just crying there – curled up in the corner.

"You're a worthless fool, stupid little brother." Aerolas said. Insulting him usually made brother to try to look angry, but only made him look funny instead. Though this time, Legolas didn't react to Aerolas's words even in the slightest.

"Tsk. You're not much fun to tease in this state, are you?" Aerolas said more then asked his brother.

When no other sound then the pathetic and miserable sobs came forth, Aerolas became bored. He had better things to do than play with his brother in a state like this. The state Legolas was in almost made him gag.

"You're boring. I'll go somewhere else for fun." Aerolas said, and with those words he left.

After Aerolas had left, Legolas didn't stop crying. He was so deeply ashamed that he loathed himself with the very core of his being. He was truly a worthless piece of meat – good for nothing. His father's words were true, as were Aerolas'. He didn't deserve to be a prince at all. He deserved to die, for only then he would stop being such a burden to everybody.

It was with these thoughts of self-loathing that Legolas softly cried himself to sleep. The small elf was curled up like an infant in the corner of the room, on the hard floor, but he was so emotionally exhausted that he couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

Hours later, when all the elves had retired to bed and almost all the fires were only being tended to by the night watches, Glorfindel couldn't sleep. And as always when he couldn't sleep, he chose to walk. Usually he'd walk outside, but seeing the storm that was raging out its last roars – it was still strong and, more importantly, wet – he chose to walk inside tonight. As always, he let his mind and legs wander separately.

His mind quickly wandered to the subject of the Mirkwood elves and the treaty they brought to the table. But since he wasn't one for politics, much less for long talks and diplomacy, his mind wandered towards the Mirkwood elves themselves. The bigger prince – Aerolas – who definitely struck him as older and stronger than the other one, had been very present in the Hall of Fire, though not obnoxiously so. He could tell that the prince had already formed many social connections – which Elrond would call 'alliances' when the time and mood was right – with many elves of Rivendell. He had been very active socially, much unlike his brother.

Also much unlike his brother, he hadn't interacted at all with the rangers. The smaller prince – who struck him as very shy and a bit childish too, but wise beyond his years in another way from their encounter in the garden – had interacted mostly with the rangers. Well, in his way of interacting at least. He had done not much more than observing silently, making his thoughts and mood only known through careful emotionless expressions that bore the mark of being trained since birth. It had only been after an hour of continuous attempts to start a conversation by Lindir, the famous Minstrel of Rivendell, that he had opened his mouth to speak.

When something out of place startled Glorfindel out of his reverie – as it always did, but in this state it took his occupied brain a while to comprehend that there was something out of place – he quickly realised that he was in the guest wing – where the princes of Mirkwood where. Maybe there actually was a connection between his brain and the rest of his body, unlike what Erestor always said.

With quite a startle he realised that the offending object that had brought him out of his thoughts was an open door. But an open door in the guest wing wasn't that unusual, was it?

Glorfindel came to a shock that it was unusual to find an open door in the guest wing, in an occupied room with a prince of Mirkwood in it. Imagine what a political, diplomatic and headache-causing disaster it would be if one of the Mirkwood princes was injured in Rivendell on a diplomatic mission! The resulting conflict would take all of Elrond's diplomatic skills to ease, if it didn't lead to a full-blown war!

He cautiously and silently – a skill learned through years of practice – entered the room unseen. The bed was slept on, in a way. The bedcovers were lying in a heap at the very edge of the bed, near the corner. It almost looked like someone had tried to make a cave to hide from the sheets, but had then left it in a hurry. With a quick look through the room, his eyes fell on a shape in the corner of the room, next to where the door swung inwards.

It was a delicate and very ... he did not want to say adorable, but it certainly fit the bill here... sight. Legolas, the older – of which he had ascertained himself by asking Erestor, who always knew all of these kinds of boring things – and certainly smaller prince of Mirkwood was curled up in the corner like an infant. Glorfindel quickly checked the prince over for wounds in case there had been an assassin, and the prince had tried to make for the door before succumbing to something like poison, but he couldn't discover anything wrong.

But if there was nothing wrong, why would the prince be sleeping on the floor when there was a perfectly good bed available not more than a few feet away? He knew that Elrond's twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had had periods of an 'active sleeping life' when they would wake up in each other's bed, in Elrond's bed or, even worse, in his bed. Maybe this was such a thing, but the twins had eventually always ended up in a bed of some sorts – counting the straw mound in one of the stables they had ended up in once as a bed too. At least they had always been somewhere warm and comfortable. But the floor wasn't exactly warm in this time of year, and neither was it very comfortable.

But maybe, if the small Mirkwood prince had the same thing as Elladan and Elrohir, he was searching for another body, possibly his brother, to curl up against. And in a new environment like this, one could easily get lost while sleepwalking.

Glorfindel realised that it didn't really matter. The smaller prince would certainly get a stiff back and neck from sleeping in this position, and he could just as well place him back in his bed. That was what he had done with the twins too, if they had ended outside their beds on his watch.

After putting one arm underneath the prince's knees, and one underneath his back, Glorfindel was surprised by how light the little prince was. He had lifted Elladan and Elrohir often enough at any age – often to catch them after or during a prank, or to lend a hand when Elrond wanted to take them out for a ride – to know that the prince should certainly weigh more than he did. He had asked Erestor, and he had said that Legolas, as the older prince, was nine centuries old. Not that he looked nine centuries, he looked more like an elfling of only five of six hundred years, but even for an elfling that age – or size – he was still at least a stone too light, maybe even two.

Just after he had lifted the small and light elf, but before he was able to turn around to take him to his bed, Legolas had snuggled closer to him – like most children would do – but he had also grabbed Glorfindel's hair unconsciously.

Glorfindel gave as much of a shrug as he could, and proceeded to put the little elf down on the bed. His hair had been grabbed often enough by Elladan and Elrohir, or 'Trouble one' and 'Trouble two' as he called them, to know how to free it from a sleeping grasp. He leaned closer to the elfin prince to gently pry the thin, delicate fingers loose from his locks when he heard the small prince mumble something in his sleep.

"I'm sorry." The little prince had said, before grabbing the hostage lock of Glorfindel even harder.

"I'm sorry." Legolas mumbled again sounding more frigthened, but this time he curled up into the position he had been in only minutes before – be it on the bed now – and grabbed the hairs he had taken hostage even closer into a death grip.

Glorfindel sighed. The small prince had obviously had a nightmare – which wasn't his place nor his task to deal or help with right now – and he needed to go back to sleep himself. With another sigh he bended closer to the prince and pried both of the small hands off – the other one had found his way to his hair not more than a few seconds ago. He stood up straight, covered the small prince with the bedcovers and left the room.

But as Glorfindel's body walked back to his room – seemingly on its own accord – his mind stayed with the small prince that was curled up on his bed in the guest room, mumbling 'I'm sorry'. There was something definitely off about the whole thing, his instincts told him that, but he hated the fact that he couldn't seem to pin-point what was off.

* * *

**A/N: To my reviewers that had asked me for something to actually happen in this story: I needed to write this out of my system (I occasionally am troubled - meaning every night at 22.58 precise - by sudden bursts of inspiration that often have nothing to do with the stories I'm writing). I can't quite judge wether this is a filler chapter or one of the more important chapters in the story, that is yours to judge, but I'm planning on letting the Rivendell elves in on Legolas' story in two or three chapters at the latest. That is going to be one pain in the [enter not-so-neat word for 'behind'] to write, so I already apologize for it if it takes a while.**


	14. Something off About the Prince

**A/N: Hi everybody! As I had already feared, this chapter turned out to be one pain in the ***, it took a long time and a lot of rewrites to write to my satisfaction. I hope it'll be read as I intended - a slightly more humorous** ** chapter - to avoid this fic being a wholly boring humourless story by the time I reach chapter 20 or so. School has started for me (too bad. Why can't we have vacation forever?), and since it's my last year and I want to pass with... somewhat flying colours, I should, would, need and want**** to do actual work this year. The work load is already a lot higher than last year, and I really need to put effort into my Greek (I HATE Greek. Stupid dead old language.) to pass. Therefore, the next chapter or chapters could take a while. I have quite a lot of things going on that require attention (though not all are school-related), but I'll try to keep around my usual pace of updating once a month. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try. That said (In my mind that sounds roughly like 'dead set'), I hope you all like this chapter.**

**Reviews are welcome!**

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The next morning brought a weather that was as calm as that of the day before had been wild. It didn't rain, but it was still moist from the torrential downpours of last night. There were branches of trees that had been ripped off by the winds, and even whole trees that had been felled by the storm, but all the elves of Rivendell had made it through the night safely.

At the crack of dawn, when even the guards were still looking dreary and not fully awake, Legolas made his way to the stables. He was planning on disappearing into the wilds, and maybe find his end at the hands of a fortunate troll or a pack of wolves. He small elf had found himself in the bed in the morning, but he remembered what had happened last night so he knew that someone had found him crying. That obviously meant that the whole of Rivendell now knew what a weakling the eldest Mirkwood prince was, what a worthless waste of space. He had shamed the Royal Mirkwood name, dragged it through the dirt in Rivendell, and that was unforgivable for both his brother and his father. So in the dawn of morn, Legolas had decided to keep the honour to himself and disappear into the wilds. His father and brother would be happier, and nobody would really care for him, so it was the best choice for all.

Legolas had his sword on him – but not his bow or quiver, they would only slow him down – as well as enough lembas to make it a few days ride away without dying from hunger. But as he made his way to the stable – where his horse Araukalasse was, if his information was correct – he was so deep in thought that he completely missed the tree that had smashed most of the back side of the stable in the storm.

As he opened the door, he was greeted by sudden panicked whinnies and cries from the horses who had taken refuge in the stable corridor after having their personal stables shattered. The biggest horse he had ever seen – much and much bigger than Aerulen, who was the largest horse in Mirkwood – had taken the position closest to the door to protect the other horses and – at the sight of an 'intruder' – was charging right at Legolas.

Legolas had an unfortunate fear of big horses, and seeing that the biggest horse he had ever seen was charging right at him, he panicked. Not panicking like most elves or humans would – with lot of loud screams and wild arm gestures, accompanied by a running away as fast as they could – the small elf pressed himself into the closest corner, sunk down and protected his head with his arms.

This surprised the big horse – which happened to be Glorfindel's horse – and made it stop his charge at the young intruder. The horse stood still for a few moments, contemplating what to do with this unknown 'intruder'. It sniffed at Legolas, trying to discern whether he was a threat or not. After a few moments, the horse had made its choice and with a gentleness that would surprise most elves – the big horse was notoriously difficult for and with strangers – the horse stepped forward and gently pressed his nose to the head of the small elf, like he would do to a frightened foal.

* * *

Lord Glorfindel had been woken by the stable boy before he was even out of bed, and had been running towards the stables before he was properly awake (or properly dressed). He wasn't directly responsible for the stables nor for the horses in it, but he would be damned before he'd leave his own horse in a wrecked stable. He had trained Asfaloth almost since birth, and he was his pride and joy.

With a haste that exemplified exactly why he was worth the name 'balrog-slayer', Glorfindel smashed open the stable door and stormed inside.

Immediately he stopped, but not before running directly into Asfaloth in his haste. Luckily the horse was a lot heavier than Glorfindel – and quite used to his master's strange antics – so it remained calmly where it stood – right in front of a still frightened Legolas.

Glorfindel quickly regained his senses after having smacked into Asfaloth's side, and immediately checked the stables for fire, orcs and other dangerous things. But seeing none of said things, and none of the horses obviously injured, he turned his head to discern why Asfaloth was standing so annoyingly in the way. He had been trained to do so, of course, but only with enemies, and not in the normally quite peaceful stables of Rivendell. His eye fell on the small form that was – by the looks of it – trying to squeeze itself through the wooden wall of the stables.

"What are you doing?" Glorfindel asked.

An eye peeked out from behind the sleeves of the form in the corner of the stables – which made Glorfindel's sleep-addled and quite shaken (from the encounter with Asfaloth's hip) brain recognise the form as belonging to Legolas, the eldest prince of Mirkwood.

Little Legolas saw Glorfindel standing there – with his hand on the big horse that wasn't charging him anymore – and his mind immediately started seeking a way out. If word would come out that he had planned to run away and die in the wilderness, he'd drag the Mirkwood name even deeper through the slime and dirt here in Rivendell. There was no other option than to avoid that information coming out, so he'd have to find a plausible excuse.

"I ... uh..." Legolas started weakly, searching for any plausible reason to explain his current position.

"I saw the damage from the tree," Legolas started slowly, "and I wanted to check on the horses."

"Well then why are you in the corner of the stables?" Glorfindel asked.

"Well... uhm..." Legolas started.

"Spill it." Glorfindel said, slightly moody from having to get up early and Legolas's hesitance to answer.

"I'mscaredofbighorses." Legolas mumbled softly.

"You what?"

"I'm scared of big horses." Legolas repeated.

"Oh." Glorfindel said. "Is it safe to assume Asfaloth charged at you?"

"Yes." Legolas said meekly.

"Aha. Well, you can come out of the corner now, he's not dangerous once you know him."

The small elf stood up from his position in the corner of the stables and cautiously stretched out his hand to Asfaloth. If it weren't for the fact that the horse bowed his head down and butted his nose into Legolas' small hand, the elf would had have to jump to reach the big horse.

Glorfindel shot the small elf a smile, but turned away to inspect the rest of the stables for damage and to check the horses for minor injuries. He saw a couple of wooden beams that had been broken by the weight of the tree but still held up part of the ceiling in a precarious balance, and decided that they'd need to move the horses to the other stables before the rest of the ceiling could collapse.

"Legolas." Glorfindel started.

The small elf seemed to startle, but Glorfindel shook it off as a remainder of the fright given by Asfaloth's charge. He was secretly proud of his horse, for being capable of instilling fear by simply charging.

"We need to move the horses outside and to the other stables."

The small elf nodded and carefully went towards the back of the stable. Glorfindel saw the ease with which Legolas moved through the mass of horses, and the complete lack of reaction from the horses at Legolas's passage. Normally most horses would move or at least react to the presence of an elf passing right in front of their noses, but Legolas moved like a ghost through the throng of bodies. It would have taken Glorfindel a long time to move through if he'd done it himself, so he was happy with the help. He instructed Asfaloth to go to the stables on the other side of the path first, to settle a few of the horses there.

The group of horses quickly started moving, filing out of the stables in an efficient line. The stable boys – most of which having been awoken after Glorfindel had ran towards the stables wearing only his night clothes and a hastily thrown cloak – quickly took over the task of directing and redirecting the horses to the other stables. Rivendell had enough place for many more horses than it currently housed, so there was little problem in getting the horses a place to stay for the winter.

* * *

When all the horses had been settled in their new stables, and the carpenter and other helpful elves were busy assessing the damage to the stable in greater detail, Glorfindel sought out Legolas. The small elf was trying to pass unnoticed through the stream of bodies that was starting to come out of Rivendell, and would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for Glorfindel's trained eyes. The older elf quickly caught up with Legolas.

"Legolas." Glorfindel said, noticing the small flinch that the young elf made after hearing his name.

"Yes, milord?"

"Thank you for the help with the horses. It would have taken a lot longer without you." Glorfindel said. "Oh and please call me Glorfindel. 'milord' makes me sound so old."

"Yes, mi... Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled at the lapse of the young prince. "I've noticed that you've got quite a way with horses, don't you think?"

Legolas hesitated, before thinking up a diplomatic answer. "Horses indeed seem to feel relaxed around me."

"I'd say that that was the understatement of the week. I've never seen Asfaloth so at ease around someone that wasn't me. Erestor can attest to that." Glorfindel smiled as he recalled the time when Erestor had tried to climb up Asfaloth's back and ride. They had managed to retrieve the disgruntled and rumpled elf almost ten minutes later from one of the thistle bushes in the forests around Rivendell. The curses that were coming from his mouth when they found him truly showed how large the vocabulary of the wise elf was.

Legolas remained silent in step next to Glorfindel. He couldn't think of a suitable diplomatic non-answer, and Thranduil and Aerolas didn't like him speak when he couldn't, so he remained silent.

"Shall we go and have breakfast, Legolas?" Glorfindel suggested.

The small elf nodded, and Glorfindel led him towards the breakfast hall.

* * *

A good few hours later, Glorfindel found himself in Elrond's private study with Erestor and Elrond, explaining his account of the destroyed stable

"I was woken up by one of the stable boys, as I had instructed in this kind of emergency." Glorfindel said. "And when he told me what had happened, I rushed towards the stable. I stumbled upon Legolas there, hiding from Asfaloth, but none of the horses were severely injured. Once I got Asfaloth to back down – Erestor let out a 'hmpf' that made him sound somewhat like a petulant child – he and I started leading the horses towards the other stables, with the help of the stable boys."

"I think that concludes the story fairly well." Elrond said.

"Is there anything else you called us here for?" Erestor asked.

"Yes, actually, there is. We haven't had time to talk yet about out diplomatic guests from Mirkwood." Elrond said.

All three elves thought for a few moments.

"I think the younger prince has a talent for diplomacy. I've seen him mostly in the Hall of Fire, always, socializing with nearly everybody. I believe he's made contacts already among most of our current population." Erestor said.

"I disagree. From what I've seen, the younger prince hasn't spoken a word. Yesterday, during the meal, that is." Elrond said.

"The younger prince? I think he has spoken so much I start to wonder if his tongue doesn't fall out from tiredness." Glorfindel said.

"The younger prince? That small one, that barely makes a sound? Are you sure we're in the same tree here?" Elrond said, using one of the few elfin sayings translatable.

"No, of course not. The younger prince is the taller one, surprisingly enough. Prince Aerolas is the youngest, I believe he's seven hundred and fifteen years old now. The older one, Prince Legolas, is nine hundred and three, if my information is correct, but he's the smaller of the two." Erestor said.

"So the smaller prince is two centuries older then the tall one?" Elrond asked for clarification.

"I know Legolas certainly doesn't look like he's only one century shy of his first millennium, but the seasons don't lie." Erestor said.

"That is making a pebble out of a mountain." Elrond said. "I would not have guessed him to be anything over four centuries."

"You have spoken with him, have you not, Glorfindel?" Erestor asked.

"I have. I agree that he is almost unhealthily small for his age. I don't think that Elladan or Elrohir were ever as thin as he is, for as far as I could have seen, of course. It quite bothers me, because I don't think it's very healthy, and somehow something about it ticks me off. I don't know why or how, but my instincts tell me there is something wrong about the fact that he is so small."

"So we know that he is small, and that there's probably something wrong somewhere, if your instincts are right, but that does nothing for us right now. What can you tell me of him besides the fact that he is small?" Elrond asked.

"I spoke to him in the gardens, and I learned that Thranduil most likely has spoken of all of us in an not quite so friendly manner. He seemed reluctant to ask for help when I recommended you, Elrond, and I quite strongly suspect that Thranduil has 'prepared' him for this diplomatic meeting."

"Why would you recommend him to me for help?" Elrond asked. "He did not strike me as someone who needs my healing."

"Not as much your healing as much as your wisdom. We spoke in the gardens yesterday, and he told me that he had gazed in Galadriel's mirror in Lothlorien. He seemed afraid of what would happen if the Dark Lord was to arise again, and so I responded that the Mirror has shown the same scenarios for all eternity."

"How in world can you manage to derail a normal diplomatic conversation such that you speak of these things?" Erestor asked. "You know as well as I that the subject of the Dark Lord is completely out of bounds for such conversations."

"It started at the weather actually." Glorfindel casually replied.

"Only you could possibly manage to derail a conversation so badly." Erestor said. "But continue."

"He asked me whether I had seen the eye in the Mirror before, and described what he had seen. It was quite vivid, because even I could feel the lingering effects clinging around him. When he finished, he seemed so ... frightened by the encounter that I recommended him to come to you for wisdom." Glorfindel said.

"I will be prepared if he does come." Elrond said. "But what about the other prince, the younger yet taller one?"

"He's struck me as one to make friends very easily. I believe he hasn't missed any social opportunity since he arrived here, though I spoke to Lindir this morning and he told me he felt uneasy around the prince." Erestor said. "But of course, I haven't spoken to him enough yet to discern for certain whether that is true or not."

"I have also seen the younger prince mingle between our own as if it were his home. He doesn't strike me exactly as the one to spin social spider webs around anybody, but I cannot deny that he has made many acquaintances here. I must say though, that he strikes me as a harsher prince than the older one, though I can't place exactly why" Glorfindel said.

"So the younger prince will most likely be stronger in the negotiations?" Elrond said.

"I believe that he will speak up more, but the older prince struck me as the wiser one. I'd expect him to offer wise advise to his brother, because I don't expect him to lead the negotiations for Mirkwood by himself. I think he's either very shy, or not skilled at negotiating, so the younger prince, Aerolas, will likely lead the diplomatic meetings for Mirkwood." Glorfindel said. "But of course that's your branch of leaves, Elrond, not mine."

"We'll see and make changes if necessary to our plans. We can't let Mirkwood get out too favourably in the treaty, we wouldn't have enough soldiers left to defend ourselves with otherwise." Elrond said.

"Noted." Glorfindel and Erestor said.

"But what should we do about the elder prince, Legolas? I can't deny that I feel something is off, and that it should be important for us to find out exactly what." Glorfindel said.

"I don't know exactly what we should do right now, but I think it would be a good course of action to let Elladan and Elrohir strike up a friendship with the Mirkwood princes. They are more their age than we are."

"It's true that they still act like they haven't passed their first millennium yet, but they're already more than two millennia old, old friend." Erestor said.

"Time travels fast for us immortal elves." Glorfindel said at Elrond's somewhat surprised look.

"At least they are more in the prince's age than either of us." Elrond said.

"Too true." Glorfindel said. "Besides, after all the excitement of today, I wouldn't mind a few pranks."

* * *

**A/N: Please review and tell me whether to put more humour in the story or get my behind back to my computer and start writing a serious plot.**


	15. Elladan and Elrohir

**A/N: Hi everyone!**

**I'm sorry for the late update, I had planned to post this a good ten days earlier but my computer had other ideas. Due to an unfortunate accident (read: I tripped over the cable), my OS (Operating System) failed to load some very important files, which caused my OS (Windows xp) to go corrupt. Despite my not-quite-so-extensive-but-still-more-than-usual knowledge of fixing computers, I had a tough challenge in fixing my laptop. Luckily I had some repair disks, but I still needed to wipe the entire harddrive. (I'm beginning to dislike hard drives. It's the second time in a few months that one of them has failed out on me). I lost everything which I hadn't stored on an USB (which basically amounted to everything minecraft related, an uber-cool wallpaper and screensaver and a whole bunch of junk files). Luckily for you my stories are always saved on an USB! But I still had some (a lot) of trouble getting my laptop back to basic and hooking it up to the internetz (Yes, internetz is a word. I believe it's Jiddisch). **

**As I have stated in one of the earlier author's notes, I passed my CAE (Certificate of Advanced English) a few months ago. I finally got that certificate a week ago, in a whole ceremony (including those strange hat-thingies, the square ones with the weird thing attached to it). It was really really cool (except for the fact that the people who had gotten an A (which included me!) were called forward first and got to read a penguin joke on top of getting the certificate! Penguin jokes, for the ones that are unfamiliar with them, contain jokes such as: 'What did the penguin cop shout to the criminal? ... Freeze!' Despite the childishness of the jokes it was still quite cool.**

**In response to everyone who read/reviewed: Thank you very much for taking such an interest in this story! It's my most-read and most-reviewed story, almost a hundred reviews and over ten thousand views already! Thank you all!**

******In response to a few reviewers (and readers) that are expecting Legolas to miraculously grow a backbone (which may or may not be cause by something Aerolas does): First of all, Thank you for reviewing. Second of all: It won't happen. Legolas will grow a backbone eventually, but it won't happen suddenly and it probably won't happen for another few chapters. It'll take a long time (just like in real life) and more than just one thing to happen before Legolas will stand up to his brother (and father). **

**Hear me rambling on... I like high wordcounts but I don't think they're to be obtained by author notes being five hundred words each.**

**I hope you like the latest chapter!**

**Reviews are welcome!**

* * *

"What have we got here, brother?" A melodious voice asked.

"I don't know of any elflings in Imladris." Another melodious voice answered.

"Maybe he's from Lorien?"

"Honestly?"

"What?" The first voice said indignantly.

"Can you imagine Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn actually having an elfling?"

"No. But wonders do exist."

"Maybe he's from Mirkwood?" The second voice suggested.

"And I wondered why Erestor always seemed angry with you for not paying attention during lessons."

"What?"

"Of course he is from Mirkwood! Don't you remember having to learn the ages of the princes of Mirkwood?"

"Well... no."

"Ugh. You're hopeless." The first voice declared.

"I can't help that Erestor is too stuffy and boring to exist outside the library."

"You never pay attention, which leaves me with all the work." The first voice said coldly.

"Well sorry for not wanting to die of boredom!"

"You should be!"

"ahem." The delicate elf, subject of the discussion between the two voices, drew the attention to himself.

"Prince Elladan and Prince Elrohir of Rivendell." Both voices, and their owners, said in unison, the previous squabble entirely forgotten.

"Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, at your service." Legolas answered, complete with the small bow his instructors had taught him.

"See! I said he was from Mirkwood." Elladan, owner of the first voice, said, completely ignoring the small elf that was waiting in front of them.

"Have I taught you two nothing?" Erestor interrupted Elrohir, who was about to answer. "You do not talk about a person as if he weren't there when that person is present!"

Both elves looked sheepish.

"Sorry." They chorused.

"Don't apologise to me, apologise to Prince Legolas!" Erestor said.

"We are sorry, Prince Legolas."

"It's no matter." Legolas answered softly.

"Prince Legolas." Erestor greeted the small elf, before turning to Elladan and Elrohir. "Both of you have arrived just in time to for the negotiations of the treaty to start."

Both princes let out a groan simultaneously.

"I can hear you're looking forward already." Erestor commented.

"We'll go visit ada while we still can." Elladan spoke.

"Before you'll bore us to death with treaties." Elrohir added.

"Your father is in his study, as usual." Erestor said to the twins. "Shall we then adjourn for lunch, Prince Legolas?"

"Lead the way, milord." The small elf said.

* * *

During lunch, Legolas sat between Elladan and Lindir. The latter had been casually instructed by Glorfindel to observe the small prince, as he himself couldn't be there. He had an armoury to oversee and a patrol round to make, and he took both duties very important.

"Prince Legolas, Prince Aerolas, what brings the both of you to our fine lands?" Elladan tried to make conversation, as Erestor had taught him since young.

"We're here to finalize the treaty between the elven realms." Aerolas answered.

"That's an honourable goal." Elrohir commented.

"What inspired the leader of Mirkwood to bring such a treaty to the tables?" Elladan asked.

"Especially so suddenly." Elrohir added.

"My father decided that it was our duty to help bring peace to for all the elven realms." Aerolas said coldly, not liking the implications of the statements of the two Rivendell princes.

"A very noble target." Elrohir said.

"But why would the leader of Mirkwood act now?" Elladan said.

"We elves have been around a long time." Elrohir spoke.

"And most of the last age has been relatively peaceful."

"Save for the Witch King of Angmar."

"But he's not a concern for Mirkwood, is he?"

Both twins usually finished each other's sentences, to great annoyance of Glorfindel and Erestor, but they deliberately upped their use to jest the Mirkwood prince. It was working, Aerolas was becoming increasingly annoyed, though it did not show outward for the untrained eye.

"King Thranduil, my father, is perfectly capable of defending Mirkwood and every kingdom nearby. We merely wish to extend this protection towards Rivendell and Lothlorien." Aerolas spoke, coldness only subtly detectable in his voice.

"So the Witch King of Angmar."

"And his increasingly large legion of orcs."

"And trolls and spiders."

"Has no effect on the capability of Mirkwood."

"To defend itself and its neighbours?" Both twins said, confusing most listeners.

"Absolutely not. We are more than capable of defending ourself and I will not stand for such insinuations. It is a disgrace to your tutor that you prove incapable of common hospitality." Aerolas spoke.

Legolas, who had followed the conversation with avid interest, and had tried to make himself look increasingly smaller and less conspicuous as the conversation flowed, slunk down deeply in his chair as he saw Erestor's face harden. The older elf was, of course, the twin's tutor and, while not fully responsible for their (deliberate) lack of 'hospitality', felt insulted.

Legolas, who had tried to overcome his shyness a bit by going to Erestor's domain, the library, earlier this morning, couldn't help but think of himself as responsible for the situation. He was the older one, and therefore the responsible one in settings like these, so everything Aerolas did would reflect on him. And as Erestor's hard gaze – for he was much too polite to glare – travelled towards him, the small elf bowed his head in submission. He knew the older elf would hold him responsible for the actions of Aerolas, although most probably not indirectly. He had tried be as polite as he could towards the older elf, polite enough to start a tentative friendship, hopefully, but now that looked like it would fail.

If it continued this way, then Erestor would become only angrier and angrier with him. Lord Elrond would too, probably, since it were his sons who were being insulted, and both princes couldn't stand for being insulted too, of course. And Lord Glorfindel would dislike him too, because he should have been the responsible one and should have stopped Aerolas before any hard words had fallen. He had failed in his task as prince, one of the simplest tasks imaginable, and he had failed badly. If only he weren't so shy and scared, such a pitiful and miserable elf, then he could have prevented this entire situation. His father's and brother's words did rang true, of course. He was a worthless piece of meat.

Legolas glanced up from underneath his blonde bangs to check on the rest of the elves at the table, to see whether they had noticed him. His eyes were immediately drawn to his brother. The glare that Aerolas gave his brother was murderous, the fire of anger burning in his eyes. Legolas had only known Aerolas to get so angry with him when he'd personally insulted him. He probably held Legolas responsible for the actions of the princes of Rivendell. Legolas suddenly realised that he'd kept himself out of the conversation! He was the crown prince, it was his job to take responsibility when things went bad. And he had completely failed that. No wonder Aerolas was so angry with him now. He'd shamed himself, Aerolas and the whole of Mirkwood again!

While the little prince was berating himself for failing, making himself smaller and hiding deeper into his chair with each passing moment, the conversation around him flowed. Elladan, Elrohir and Aerolas had changed a few more words, but not much, before Erestor interfered and changed the direction of the conversation to wholly safe topics. The twins evaded his the old elf's eyes for the remainder of the meal, knowing full well he'd grate them before the night fell.

* * *

After lunch was finished, Legolas made his way towards his room as fast as he could without being impolite. He had felt increasingly bad as lunch had progressed, even though nothing had really happened after the conversation between the Rivendell princes and prince Aerolas. But Legolas blamed himself for that, and with it for everything else that had gone or could have gone.

The looks of murder Aerolas had given Legolas by the end of the meal spoke enough. Aerolas was angry beyond belief, and when Aerolas was angry, Legolas always bore the brunt of it. The smaller elf was trying to evade Aerolas as long as possible by fleeing to his rooms, but he knew he couldn't hold off his brother forever.

* * *

Have I taught you two nothing?" Erestor said to the twins, who were standing in front of them. "You do not antagonize your guests, especially not when there are important matters involved! If prince Aerolas had been the crown prince, or if prince Legolas had been any more like his brother, you could have destroyed this treaty!"

"What do you mean by 'if prince Aerolas had been the crown prince?'" Elrohir asked.

Erestor let out a sigh. "The prince you so needlessly antagonized during lunch was the younger prince, Aerolas."

"The younger? So you mean the little elfling we met in the hallway was older than his brother?" Elladan said in surprise.

"Yes. Legolas, the one you just described as 'the little elfling', is the elder prince. If you had paid any attention to my lessons over the past centuries, you'd know that he's nine hundred and three years old. Prince Aerolas is seven hundred and fifteen, so he's nearly two centuries younger."

Elrohir was about to say 'but he's so small!' in a childish way, until he realised why his father had seen a bit pensive, just like Erestor.

"You think there's something more to it?" Elrohir asked after a few moments.

Erestor almost did a double-take from surprise. Elrohir always was the brash one of the twins, the one who didn't think anything through if it wasn't extremely important or dangerous. For him to understand it was ... uncommon, but not unwelcome. Erestor pondered for a few moments. "Let's go to Elrond. I believe it is time we fill you in to our thoughts on the matter."

* * *

A few minutes later, the twins and Erestor stood in Elrond's study.

"Although I believe it obvious, I still wish to say that this will remain among us. Not a word of this conversation will leave either this room or your lips." Elrond started.

"It will not." Both twins said.

"Very well." Elrond started. "The Mirkwood Princes arrived here yesterday. At first I too was confused by who the crown prince was, but beyond that I thought nothing wrong. I couldn't sense anything off yet. But this morning, Glorfindel came to me to speak about the princes, for he had been feeling quite … peeved about something. He couldn't exactly describe the feeling, only that it felt like something was 'off', and that it seemed to be connected to the Mirkwood Princes, especially the younger one. I then took extra notice of both princes at breakfast, and I must say that I've too felt that there was something wrong. I cannot describe it, which is strange, but it feels like it is somehow very important."

When Elrond stopped, Erestor started. "I too have felt something was off. I haven't spent enough time in close quarters with one or both of the princes to pinpoint exactly what feels off, but I have seen enough of them to notice something isn't as it should be."

"Can we do something to help?" Elrohir asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I believe you can." Elrond started. "You are much closer in age to both princes than we are, so you can much better socialize with them.

"So you want us to socialize with them? What exactly should we look for? You have much more experience with this type of thing than we have combined." Elladan said.

"Pay attention to everything they do, but be discrete with it. It will not do for you to get caught." Erestor said.

"Pay special attention to the way they hold themselves, the way they talk and react, and the way they do everything. Our elven ancestors may have created the language and the words, but most of what we think and feel can be discovered by reading how one stands, reacts or deals with everything." Elrond said.

"Very well. We will pay attention to both of the princes from now on." Elladan said. "

"On another account, when is Glorfy coming home? We've not yet seen him."

* * *

By the time Elrond, Erestor, Elladan and Elrohir had made plans to handle the situation with the Mirkwood princes, Legolas was waiting for his brother to come. The frail elf had resigned himself, once he had accepted his initial fears, to the fact that Aerolas would blame him for everything. He knew he would end up crying before the hour was over, but the least he could do was to accept the blame. The small elf seated himself on a chair in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for his brother to come.

Not even ten minutes later, Aerolas entered Legolas' room. The shy elf cringed at the anger that burned in his brother's eyes, and the loud slam of the door that closed, but he remained seated in the chair.

"You bloody idiot." Aerolas started.

Little Legolas tried to steel himself for all the insults that would follow, despite the fact that he knew he would end up crying like a weakling. "You absolutely worthless piece of dung. You're the most idiotic orc I've ever seen! You're the most useless crown prince one could imagine!"

The frail elf, who was unusually timid and coy at the best of times, slunk further back in the chair as if he were trying to curl up into the nearest corner.

"Didn't you notice that those two bloody ponces were insulting our kingdom! Our home! Are you that much of a boorish orc that you hold no love for your own home?"

The light blue eyes of the crown prince remained on his feet, where they usually rested.

"Look at me when I speak to you!" Aerolas almost shouted.

Legolas tried to meet his brother's gaze, but flinched in fear before he'd even reached his brother's middle.

"You truly are worthless. I've never seen anyone as dumb, idiotic, stupid and worthless as you! You're not fit to be a crown prince, you're not even fit to be called an elf!"

"Look at me!" Aerolas shouted after a short silence.

Again, Legolas failed to meet his brother's eyes.

Suddenly, a positively murderous glint entered Aerolas' eyes. He grabbed Legolas' thin arm and twisted it around painfully until the smaller elf was bowing to him in pain.

"I've just realised that you're the worst possible king of Mirkwood, yet the first in the line for the throne. I suggest you to be very wary when we ride back home, because you'll never know when and why sudden ... accidents might happen." Aerolas threathened softly into his brother's ear.

With an extra twist on the arm that made Legolas yelp in pain, Aerolas released his brother and let him fall down to the floor.

"Who knows, ada will certainly be happy when you get a fatal accident. The rest of the servants as well, I suppose. And everyone else who matters, of course." With those words, Aerolas left his brother alone in the room.

Legolas curled up into a tiny ball on the floor as tears started to fall. The little elf knew he deserved to be treated as he was, and worse even, but it still hurt.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are welcome!**


	16. Twice in one Day

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'd like to offer my apologies for taking so long, the final year of school takes a lot out of me. I only barely have time to write between the exams, tests, presentations, essays and all other projects I need to do. Without much of a long author's note at the start, I want to wish you all a merry christmas and a happy new year!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 16 - Twice in a Day

* * *

Two elfin princes stood regally in a hallway in their home, waiting until their plans would be fulfilled and their effects would be visible. Which could roughly be translated to 'they stood hidden in an alcove, trying to hold their laughter in as they waited for the target of their prank to come out of his room.' Despite being over two millennia old, considered mature in elven standards, both beings acted as if they were elflings of no more than five centuries.

"'Dan, what color do you think it'll be?" Elrohir asked his brother.

"I'm guessing blue, because I think we put too much blue in it for it to be any other color."

"I'm guessing green then, because I switched the blue and green bottles."

"Yea, I know, but I had switched them beforehand so it'll still be blue." Elladan said.

"Before or after I switched them the second time around?"

"You switched them twice? What good would that have done?"

"I switched the blue with the yellow, I think, the second time." Elrohir said.

"Wait, the yellow I switched last week or the actual yellow?"

"You mean you switched the yellow? I thought you had switched the green."

"But if you thought you had switched the green with the yellow, but you had the yellow…" Elladan trailed of uncertainly.

"Stop it, I'm getting a headache from you." Elrohir complained. "We'll see what colors we had decided to mix in."

Just as both elfin princes turned their gazes to the door of their target's room, a shout came from behind the door.

"Blue." Elladan said.

"Green." Elrohir said.

The door of their target's room was swung open, and prince Aerolas strode out in the hallway in a murderous pace, giving the princes of Imladris perfect view of his newly acquired hair color.

"Blast. Orange." Both muttered at the same time.

Aerolas was sprouting fiery orange hair, so bright it made him look like he stood on fire.

Elladan and Elrohir congratulated each other on a successful prank – though neither of them knew who or what had caused the orange color. But as they did so, Prince Aerolas smashed open the door on the other side of the hallway, directly opposite of his own door, and stomped inside before slamming it shut

The twin princes heard a sharp intake of breath, some ruffling of cloth and something falling on the floor. A soft whimper was only barely audible from behind the door, even with their elfish senses.

Curious, they made their way from their hiding place towards the door of Legolas' room, where Aerolas had entered only seconds ago.

* * *

"What have you done, you miserable orc!" Aerolas hissed loudly, poisonous as a spider, to his brother. He had grabbed the smaller elf by the arm and neck, arm twisted around and behind his back. The smaller prince was struggling to breathe through the chokehold on his neck, but he couldn't do anything against his brother. "You did this to take revenge on me, didn't you? You bloody idiot! On the day of the negotiations you do something utterly stupid such as this! Have you lost your mind!"

The two Rivendell elves had made their way towards the door, and had very softly pushed it open, to peek trough and see what was happening in Legolas' chambers. They were stunned by the way the two princes stood. Legolas was kneeling on the floor, with Aerolas keeping his lower legs pinned to the floor, he was bowing forward in a strange angle because his arms were held behind his back, stretched out and higher than Elladan and Elrohir thought possible. His hands were held together, and one of Aerolas' arms was tight around his throat, cutting off his windpipe.

"What are you doing!" Elladan and Elrohir shouted at the same time, as they saw how Aerolas held his brother.

"Leave! This is none of your business!" Aerolas practically roared as he saw the two princes stand in the doorway.

The begging look of the smaller prince, who struggled futilely against his brother's chokehold on his neck, gave Elladan and Elrohir pause. Erestor and Elrond, and Glorfindel too, had drilled in their head the importance of diplomacy, almost since birth. They knew the exact rules that governed the treatment of foreign princes and kings, traditions from ages long lost. The rules of hospitality had withstood the decay of ages, but common sense dictated something other than the rules of hospitality in this instance.

"Let him go!" Elrohir said.

"Remove yourself now!"

"Release him!" Elladan shouted.

Through the shouting of the three elves, the small Mirkwood prince was still being choked. Aerolas' leg pinned both his legs to the ground, his arms were turned behind his back and his windpipe was closed from the hand that was strangled around his neck. He struggled, but Aerolas was far stronger than he and the lack of air made him weak. He sent pleading looks towards the princes of Imladris, but they were too busy shouting to Aerolas to take notice of him.

Legolas stopped struggling when the shortage of air became too much. He slumped, though it barely made a difference with how he was held. The small, unconscious body of the elder prince of Mirkwood was kept in the chokehold while Aerolas, Elladan and Elrohir argued and shouted.

* * *

"Ada!" Two voices shouted at the same time.

"Ada come quick!" They shouted as Elladan and Elrohir stormed into Elrond's study.

"Legolas is in danger!"

"Aerolas was strangling him…!"

"Because of a prank…"

"…lost consciousness…"

"…diplomacy…"

"…hospitality…"

"…orange hair…"

"You must come!" They both concluded.

Elrond held up his hands before his sons could start up their rant again.

"One at a time. Slowly." He said.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, in the way only twins can.

"Legolas is in danger." Elladan said. "Aerolas was strangling him in the guest wing and he lost consciousness."

"You must come quick!" Elrohir added.

* * *

Glorfindel was tending to his horse, Asfaloth, in the stables, after yesterday's scare, when he heard a commotion outside. The sound of horses galloping fast through the middle of Rivendell was not common, to say the least, and most likely dangerous. Rivendell was located in a small valley in the Misty Mountains, and there wasn't exactly much room for horses to gallop at full speed, which these horses were most likely doing, if judged by the sounds.

He left the stables to check on what was happening, but he immediately had to jump back inside to avoid being hit by horses. His millennia-old warrior instincts counted five horses, lightly packed, with five riders, all elves. He quickly scrambled up from where he had fallen after his jump inside, and saw the tell-tale white-blond hair of Mirkwood Royalty in two of the riders. It seemed that Aerolas and Legolas were leaving in a large hurry.

He only then noticed that the smallest of the five riders, Legolas obviously, was slumped over his horse, a beautiful mare, Araukalasse, which was translated to 'swift leaf' in Westron. It was a fitting name for her, she was built for speed instead of power. Very much like her rider, in that sense.

Glorfindel could see Araukalasse swerve a bit to the sides, as if she were trying to keep her master safely on her back. Which, judged by the way he sat, was very much possible. It would be very disconcerting if it were true that Legolas was unconscious. Both he and Elrond, and Erestor and the twins as well, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the eldest prince of Mirkwood than what was shown. 'More than meets the eye', humans would say.

* * *

"Ada! We must send out some riders!" Elladan said to Elrond.

"Legolas was unconscious when Aerolas forced us to leave!" Elrohir said.

"You can't let them leave!" Elladan said.

"What are you shouting at your father for?" Glorfindel said as he entered Elrond's study. He had made haste to consult his old friend after seeing the Mirkwood princes leave so suddenly.

"We saw Aerolas strangle Legolas!" Elladan answered

"And he was unconscious!" Elrohir said.

"And we saw them gather everything from their rooms!"

"And just ride away on their horses!"

"But Legolas was still unconscious!"

Glorfindel, used to the twin's strange form of completing each other's sentences, quickly linked what they had told him to what he had seen just a few minutes earlier. He was about to say something to Elrond, to tell him to send out horses, men, even himself and the twins to trail the Mirkwood troupe, when Elrond spoke up, silencing everybody.

"No, I won't allow you to follow them."

He silenced the protests of Glorfindel and the twins with his hand. "I do not doubt that Prince Aerolas has acted out of a perceived threat, a threat of war, and has seized control of the Mirkwood delegation, if he did not already have it. This is a very serious situation, even if prince Legolas would have been fine, but it prevents us from acting as you would undoubtedly suggest. If we, or any elf for that matter, were to trail their progress towards Mirkwood, they would undoubtedly see it as an act of war. Taking into account that they are a diplomatic delegation, meeting them with force, even if only perceived, could easily lead to an full-scale war between the elven kingdoms of Middle Earth."

Glorfindel and the twins were silent, as Elrond paused.

"Therefore, as much as it pains me to say it, and my heart calls out to do what feels right, I will not allow any of you to follow prince Legolas."

* * *

A close hour later, the Mirkwood troupe had slowed down to a more manageable tempo, to spare the horses. Legolas had woken up quite a while before, but with the glares that the other elves shot him, he didn't dare to speak. They had ridden northwards from Rivendell, towards one of the closest passes through the mountains, but as they rode up into the higher hills, snow was beginning to fall. The other Mirkwood elves all wore thick cloaks, made for harsh winters, but Legolas, who had been unconscious while the rest of the troupe had packed everything they had, didn't have more than the clothes on his back.

The thin elf shivered from the cold, just as realization dawned of what had happened over the past hours. He, pitiful excuse for an elf, had failed again in every single one of his jobs. He hadn't led the negotiations, nor had he made any attempt to, he hadn't stood up for his own brother in the prank, he had undoubtedly held everyone back as they had packed, because he had been unconscious then. The small elf shivered, but it wasn't just the cold that made him do so.

* * *

When the night began to fall, the troupe was at the foot of the pass just north of Rivendell. There was a small cave at the end of the gorge that led to the pass, and that was where the Mirkwood troupe was going to camp for the night.

Where the rest of the group descended from their horses with the usual grace of the elves, albeit a bit cold and weary, and angry, in some cases, Legolas could do little more than let himself fall of Araukalasse. His arms and legs were cramped up, he was cold beyond belief and he was as stiff as a board. He made his way towards a little alcove in the back of the cave, out of sight, and hopefully out of mind. There he huddled up, trying to get even the smallest bit of warmth back into his limbs.

When the troupe had settled their horses and made a fire, Legolas had just managed to get his teeth to stop clattering from the cold.

"Legolas." Aerolas spoke. "Come here."

Legolas came closer to the fire submissively, as if he were a slave instead of a prince of Mirkwood.

"Sit down." Aerolas spoke.

Legolas did as he was told, and sat down immediately. Aerolas moved closer to Legolas, stretched his arm out and hit him with all the force he could muster. A harsh sound echoed through the cave as the little elf toppled over from the force behind the blow. He landed face-first on the hard stone floor of the cave.

"I'm sorry." Came out the soft, pitiful voice of Mirkwood's crown prince.

"You'd better be." Aerolas said. "because neither ada nor I are going to condone any of your actions any longer. You've behaved unacceptably, you've been irresponsible, your actions have both jeopardized this treaty and the safety of Mirkwood, as well as the peace between the Elven kingdoms!" He was practically shouting now. "You worthless excuse for an elf! What have you to say! Hmm?"

Again, the little, delicate voice of the crown prince of Mirkwood rang. "I'm sorry." The little elf had scrambled back up from where he had landed after his brother's punch, and was sitting as close to the fire as he dared, while trying to make himself as small as possible.

"You're sorry? You're sorry?" Aerolas said in an incredulous tone. "You've jeopardized the safety of all elves on Middle Earth, brought our race almost to the brink of destruction and you're sorry? I'll give you something to be sorry about!"

With those words, Aerolas lunged for Legolas, grabbing the little elf's head and smashing it to the floor as hard as he could. Legolas had tried to defend himself, but it didn't have any effect as he was knocked out cold on the floor of the cave.

* * *

**A/N: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**


	17. No, I'm coming with you

**A/N: Hello everybody! **

**School is taking a large toll on my time, and will likely continue to do so until the end of March (I hope). I'm going to do the highest of the Cambridge English Exams, the CPE, in early March****, and I'll be finishing several large school-related projects somewhere in that period too, including a list of 18 books I need to read, analyze and know. The only three books I actually liked on that list were The Lord of The Rings, The Discovery of Heaven (Dutch book), and The Praise of Folly (also Dutch book). I still have to read four of the eightteen books, and I have until next week friday, so I'm going to be quite busy. **

**On another note, I feel the need to put my two cents in and oppose the SOPA, PIPA and ACTA bills (though only the ACTA could directly affect me here in Holland). The ACTA prevents the spreading of anything copyrighteable. The following things are copyrighteable: speeches, software, films, photos, music, works of art, news and buildings. Since we cannot own copyrighted information, it is unlawful to listen to speeches, to own software (including all operating systems except open-source ones), films that you have not made, photos you have not made, music you have not made. Some beats are copyrighted too, so you cannot sing Jingle Bells, you cannot play any song on your guitar or drums and you cannot hum 'It's the final countdown'. It is also unlawful to view or describe works of art, to read the news or talk about it (since you'll be pirating works of journalism) and it is also illegal to enter or look at buildings. By entering a building which is copyrighted, you profit from the existance of that building without holding the rights to it, therefore you are pirating it. ACTA, SOPA and PIPA are outlawing the existence of copyrighted works, since the copyrighted works do not own themselves and therefore are pirating themselves. **

**There might be holes in my logic, but there might be holes in these (unl)awful laws too.**

**Sorry for going on a rant like that, I hope to find enough time to write in the next few weeks/months. I will strive to keep my semi-regular speed of uploading one chapter each month, but I cannot promise anything. **

**Reviews are welcome!**

**Enjoy**

* * *

Chapter 17

* * *

"Glorfindel, you must let us go!" Elladan said.

"For the last time, NO! You don't know where they have gone, you don't know which pass they have taken and I don't want you two going on a fool's chase just as winter will set in! Besides, Elrond forbade you to go and I trust in his judgment." Glorfindel answered angrily, the twins had been pestering him to let them go and chase the Mirkwood delegation for hours.

"But can you then at least turn an eye to us if we…"

"No! You may not go! Besides, why do you feel so obligated to go?"

"Well… you see." Elladan started.

"It's sorta…" Elrohir said.

"We sorta…"

"Kind of…"

"May have…"

"Something to do with…"

"Spill it!" Glorfindel said. "And no petty excuses!"

"We sorta were responsible for the prank on Aerolas," Elrohir started.

"Which caused him to lash out this way and leave." Elladan finished.

"So it's our fault…"

"And we feel sorry for Legolas…"

"So we want to go and rescue him."

"This is a new piece of information…" Glorfindel said with an icy calm. "I thought Erestor, Elrond and I had taught you enough to know when a prank is suitable. Perhaps remedial lessons are in order then…"

The twins gulped at the dangerous sight of Glorfindel concocting a suitable punishment.

* * *

When Legolas woke up, the cold morning sun just shone through the winter clouds. He shivered, despite the fact that most elves are almost impervious to the weather. But Legolas was much smaller than most elves, and he wasn't exactly in top health, so he was sensitive to the cold winter.

Legolas looked around, but the cave was empty. Tears started to into his eyes as the realization dawned. His kin had abandoned him. He knew he brother hated him, and he knew the rest of the Mirkwood elves had no love for him either, but to be left behind in a cave in the middle of the Misty Mountains in winter… It brought home to Legolas that he wasn't wanted. That he was on his own from now.

As the tears began dripping down his cheeks, Legolas looked around to see if they had left something … anything behind for him. But the cave was empty. Legolas realized that there was some blood on the rocks where he had lain – his blood. That meant he'd have to leave the cave immediately. Most predators were hibernating, sleeping the deep sleep of winter, but orcs never hibernated and orcs were drawn to elfin blood like flies are drawn to honey. He put a hand carefully on his hair, to not hurt where the blood had come from, and it came back filled with dried blood. He'd need to find a stream and bathe, otherwise he'd be a living bait for any evil creature in the area.

Shivering from the cold and fighting his tears, Legolas stood up and made for the outside – hoping to escape any orcs nearby, but just as he came out of the cave, an arrow struck the stones only a foot away from him. He quickly looked at where the arrow had come from – it was an orcish arrow, crude, but deadly – and saw a couple of orcs standing on a ledge on the other side of the ravine where the cave was. It was obviously one of their paths, maybe one for contact between the orcs and the goblins in the mountains, but this group of orcs was nothing more than a patrol, consisting of only three.

Legolas heard their excited cries as they thought they had hit him. He had moved back in recoil from the arrow, and the cave sheltered most of his body in the shadow, so from the distance it looked like he had been hit. He saw the orcs run down the slope, following a path only fit for nimbler feet than orc feet. In their haste to reach the cave and claim the life of an elf, two of the three orcs had tripped over loose pebbles and rocks and had turned from running orcs into falling orcs.

Legolas moved deeper into the cave as the first orc reached the small piece of even land, where he waited for his two companions-who-had-turned-into-falling-rocks. Creatures of evil are apparently sturdier than most humans, because a human wouldn't have stood up so swiftly after taking such a tumble. But maybe it was the elfin blood that lured them, one will never know.

Legolas quickly took his small knife from his belt – his only weapon, since his bow and arrows had remained behind in Rivendell. When the three orcs moved into the cave, assured of their victory over the 'wounded' elf, Legolas waited until they were wholly submerged in shadows before he struck the last orc. A quick stab to the neck ended its life soon enough, but alerted the other two to his position.

With cries of war, the two blade-wielding orcs charged Legolas. But the small elf, though not in peak condition and without his usual weapons, was trained well enough to dispatch the two orcs with relative ease.

With the orcs taken care of, Legolas took whatever he found useful from their corpses. It was far from the elvish traditions to do so, but he needed to survive. He'd have burned them, if he had the time and firewood to do so, but he had neither. He found a bow – which was crude and filthy – and arrows – also filthy – and took them. Two of the orcish blades found their way to his side too, but he didn't take anything else. He hurriedly left the cave afterwards, leaving the three corpses for the rats.

Legolas had found a little stream of water coming from the mountains not more than an hour later, and the forest that covered the little dale he was in offered enough protection. He quickly dunked his head under water and flushed out as much of the dried blood as he could find. The water was icy cold, but it came straight out of the mountain so it was clean and fresh.

The snow that had fallen overnight had blanketed the ground and trees around him. It was much thinner then on the mountains, only an inch thick, but it coated everything in pure white. Which, of course, made it very easy to track someone. Elves walk lightly and very swift, but even in the snow they leave footsteps. Legolas knew that there would be more patrols near the pass where he had slain the orcs, and they would quickly discover the missing patrol and the tracks leading from there to where he was. His footsteps, combined with the elvish scent, would be enough for any orc to track through the cold winter landscape.

Legolas was determined to make it back to Rivendell, which would prove the only escape from the orcs that swarmed the mountains at night. The river Loudwater, Bruinen in Sindarin, was to the south, as he was north of Rivendell if his memory wasn't too shaken. So his best bet was to go southwards and find the river and follow it until he could cross. The Bruinen wouldn't be as large a river as it was in the summer and spring, but it would still be of considerable size. And with the temperatures of winter, it would be folly to cross the stream.

The only problem with this was that coming from the North to the ford of Rivendell would lead you directly through the Trollshaws. The Witch King of Angmar had may already have been defeated a few centuries ago, but a lot of Trolls and orcs had escaped the destruction of Angmar, and most of the Trolls had come to the forest just West of Rivendell, where the protective magic of the Elves kept the trolls at the right side of the river. The large forest had once carried another name than that of 'Trollshaws', and had even had some inhabitants, but they had all been eaten by Trolls. Over the years, the forest became darker and the name 'Trollshaws' became more and more common.

Legolas knew that Trolls were huge creatures, stronger than an ox but as dumb as dirt. Normal trolls would rely on strength, sight and pure luck to gather food, but these trolls had been born in the north, under the reign of the Witch King of Angmar, and they relied on smell instead of sight. He may have washed most of the blood off, but the smell would still carry and he would stand absolutely no chance if a troll managed to find him. Their hide was two thumbs thick, so his little knife would be useless in a fight.

So it was with a heavy heart that Legolas set out to the south, to find the Bruinen and make his way back to Rivendell.

* * *

"Elladan, come quick! We must hurry!" Elrohir said to his brother.

"Be quiet!" Elladan hissed back. "You don't want to bring ada or Glorfindel on our backs, do you?"

"Well then we must hurry! The herbs I planted in the tea aren't going to work forever!"

"Have we got everything? Food?" Elrohir asked.

"Got enough for weeks." Elladan answered.

"Water?"

"Enough to last us a few days."

"Ada's medicine box?"

"Yes, but he's not going to be happy with us when he finds out."

"Weapons?"

"I have my sword and daggers, and my bow is already packed in my saddle bag."

"Good. Then we can leave."

The two elfin princes snuck out of Rivendell in the dead of night. They were cautious enough not to make a sound and wake one of the other elves, and everybody except the guards slept in the dead of night.

The two elves crossed the few courtyards and corridors that lay between their rooms and the stables with ease. The moon was bright enough to light up their path, and elfin senses were keen enough to discern any obstacles. They reached the stable door without any problems, and entered the stables to grab their horses and leave in the dead of the night.

Both princes still felt incredibly guilty for what their prank had caused. They had intended to take Aerolas down a peg or two, but instead they had destroyed the treaty between Mirkwood, Lothlorien and Rivendell, and they had caused the Mirkwood delegation to flee from their home as if they had been attacked. It caused great shame to their home and their father, and of course to themselves as well, and on top of that they had seen the crown prince of Mirkwood, Legolas, being blamed for the prank. Riding out after the Mirkwood troupe was the least they could do.

"And where are you two miscreants going?" Rang the voice of Glorfindel as the two princes entered the stable.

They were caught red-handed, and stood like elflings with their hands in the cookie jar. "We were… uhm…"

"… sorta… going to…."

"We wanted to…"

"Sort of…"

"Going to…"

"Rescue Legolas." They stammered, finishing each others sentences

Glorfindel shot a glare at the two elves, causing them to bow their heads.

"Saddle up them. The guards will only be asleep for less than an hour." Glorfindel said.

The twins looked up in astonishment. "You're actually going to let us go?"

"No, I'm coming with you." Glorfindel said. "Think of it as part of your punishment."

"Quickly now, before we are seen leaving." Glorfindel said, and with that the twins quickly moved, and together with Glorfindel they rode out of Rivendell in the middle of the night.

In his study, overlooking the valley of Rivendell, Elrond stood, watching the three elves leave.

"May the winds carry your horses swiftly." He wished them luck.

* * *

**A/N: I cop pa at a spa** **is an anagram of SOPA, PIPA, ACTA. Pirated from a free online anagram generator. **


	18. A Judged Wanderer

**A/N: Hello everybody!**

**I apologize for taking such a long time to update. Exams and other end-of-secondary-school things take up much of my time and energy nowadays, but I'll try to keep writing this story. I sat through my CPE just yesterday, and I hope everything went all-right. I have also finally decided which study I want to take next year at University, and I hope I can continue writing stories for this site for a long time. **

**As for this story, I had somewhat of a clear idea where this will go. Legolas will eventually come back to Mirkwood, though I'm not sure exactly when (elves being immortal and all, so there's plenty of time to chose from). Aerolas will eventually be punished, though I'm not sure how. Maybe I could demonstrate in that chapter just how many silly word the English have for things. There's defenestrate (for example), which is 'to throw through or out of a window'. 'Abacinate' is also an option, 'To blind by a red-hot metal plate held before the eyes', according to the internet.**

**Anyways, my apologies for taking so long to update and my sincere thanks to all reviewers and all readers for taking interest in this story (almost 17.000 hits and 30 favourites, as well as almost 75 alerts and a stunning 126 reviews!). I hope you enjoy!**

**Reviews are welcome!**

**Ps: '_Rana namoa_', the 'judged wanderers' is a rough translation from an online source.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 18**

* * *

As the night fell, Legolas found a sheltered spot in a tree. It was quite an old oak, with large branches, and there was a nice enough bough sheltered from rain and wind. Legolas was far smaller than most elves, so he had no trouble in curling up in the small space. As he was hidden in the bough of the large tree, it only then really hit Legolas that he was alone now.

By leaving him behind in the cave in the Misty mountains, leaving him to die, he had essentially been cast out from Mirkwood. He wasn't welcome anymore, he was banished. Throughout elfish history, banishment had been rare, reserved for the worst traitors and murderers. Legolas knew the signal it gave to any elf, and any other creature as well, to be banished from the elfin kingdoms of Middle Earth. It meant that you were unwanted by the beings that only despised evil, so therefore you were evil yourself. It meant that you would be scorned in all elfish kingdoms, and be mistrusted in the cities of men. More than usual, there, because mortal men cannot stand immortality.

The small elf let his tears flow free when he realized that he would live a pariah's life for the rest of his days. No elves would want him, the dwarves wouldn't want anything to do with any elf, and in the cities of man he couldn't stay longer than a few weeks at most. He'd spend his days moving around from city to city and from village to village, doing odd jobs in search for food or a place to sleep.

Legolas knew he wasn't set up for such a life. He was … had been, now, royalty, and though he was used to patrolling and was trained in fighting, he didn't have any skills with which he could make a life. He was a sloppy artist at best, and wasn't experienced in working with his hands, and he was totally unfit for manual labor. He wouldn't last long in a pariah's life.

With a startle, Legolas realized that he wouldn't be welcome in Rivendell anymore. They would surely find out that he had been banished from Mirkwood, and they would undoubtedly banish him from Rivendell too. The _'Rana Namoa'_, 'Judged wanderers' were not looked upon kindly if they were found trying to get into another elfish kingdom.

So Legolas realized that he shouldn't want to go towards Rivendell anymore. They would cast him out, and he would be right in the middle of Trollshaws then. He should make his way northwards, perhaps, to trek around the dangerous woods. With any luck, he could pass through the plains in the north and make his way to Bree, where he could perhaps find a place to work for some food or sleep to last this winter.

The small elf curled up into the bough of the tree, shivering from the cold, and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

The next morning, a stiff and weary Legolas woke up in the bough of the tree. It was no longer a strange thing for him to sleep with his eyes closed, though usually only wounded or ill elves did so. The small elf climbed down from the tree he had stayed in, silently sending his thanks in the process.

No new snow had fallen during the night, so there were some tracks in the snow of animals. The option of hunting wildlife entered his thoughts, but Legolas decided against it. He didn't like meat very much, and he wasn't hungry enough yet to set himself over his distaste for it. Besides, he knew he was possibly the worst hunter of all elves. He just couldn't bring himself to shoot an unsuspecting animal, even though he had no qualms about shooting the giant spiders of Mirkwood or the orcs from Dol Guldur.

Legolas started to trek northwards. The forest he had stayed in was small, much smaller than Trollshaws, and more to the north. He knew from the maps he had studied at home that the Ettenmoors lay to the north of Trollshaws, but those hills were infested with trolls, just like the woods to the south. The Mitheitel, the Hoarwell in Westron, was to the west, and that stream signaled the end of the large plain between the Trollshaws, the Ettenmoors, the Misty mountains and the river itself.

As he exited the forest, Legolas took care to stay out of sight as much as he could. One could never know what manner of beasts hid in the large plain. Trolls would be unlikely, because none of them were stupid enough to risk sunlight to watch out of their holes (and those that were, were stone already). Orcs would be more dangerous, because they cannot transform into stone, but hopefully the plain was empty of them.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Legolas, the three elves that had set out from Rivendell had just turned northwards after having crossed the Bruinen at the Ford. It was early in the morning, but the sun had already risen, so there was little chance of Trolls barring their way. The Trollshaws was a forest too large to cross on foot in one day, but on horseback it was possible to set out at dawn and arrive at the other side at dusk, though one had to ride fast to accomplish it. That was exactly what Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel were doing.

Glorfindel had just been about to start a conversation, when he caught hold of a foul smell.

"Orcs." He said. "But not many."

"Shall we take them?" Elladan said.

"Or go around them?" Elrohir said.

"I think we should take them. It's not a large group, and if we kill them, there is no chance of them getting to Legolas." Glorfindel said.

"How far are they, then?" Elladan asked.

"Not far, methinks. A few minutes' ride."

"Let's go then." Elrohir said.

* * *

And indeed, a few minutes later, the three elves stumbled on the orcish encampment. There were a few more orcs than Glorfindel had estimated, because there were thirty orcs where he had only expected ten, but they were encamped in the shade of a group of trees and most were asleep.

Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir quickly bound their mounts to a tree some minutes away from the orcish encampment, so they wouldn't get hurt. The terrain was too densely grown with trees to make use of their horses in battle. But the trees did provide the option of taking the orcs out from up high, sheltered by branches and leaves.

The three elves all quickly chose a tree, Glorfindel in an old oak, while Elladan and Elrohir found two maple trees close to each other. All trees provided a good sight of the orcish camp, where thirty orcs lay sleeping between the remains of some recently dead animals.

On a signal from Glorfindel, three arrows flew from the trees and hit the three orcs standing guard. But one of the other orcs must have been awake as well, because a loud yelp sounded, and all the orcs quickly woke up. Most of them jumped for their swords, giving the three elves enough time to take out another six orcs, but a few orcs quickly grabbed their bows.

With the swords in hand, and the harsh cries and growls of war, the orcs charged to the trees. They had apparently only seen Glorfindel's arrows fly, because soon twenty orcs stood around the base of the oak. A few others stood further away, putting the arrows on their bows, but Elladan and Elrohir quickly took care of them.

"Come down little elf!" One of the orcs yelled to Glorfindel.

"Why? I'm quite comfortable in this tree." Glorfindel asked calmly.

"You elves are nothing but _grâsh, _scum." The orc taunted. "With your ugly faces, hiding in trees."

"Calling me ugly would be like a pot calling the snow black." Glorfindel said calmly, while Elladan and Elrohir took out the last of the archers. "And besides, at least my head is still whole."

The orc looked up in confusion, and Glorfindel used the opening to jump out of the tree. He had put his bow away, and using the momentum of his jump, swung his sword down so hard that he split the helm and the orc underneath it.

The resulting surprise of the orcs gave the Balrog-slayer enough time to decapitate two and put his sword though the arm of another. Elladan and Elrohir had been picking of the orcs standing furthest away from the tree as well, thinning the group down.

In the battle that followed, Glorfindel showed where exactly he got the name 'twice-born Balrog-slayer'. Almost half of the orcs were decapitated or missing several key limbs, while the other half was hit in the neck or back by arrows from the twins.

"They won't cause trouble again." Glorfindel said.

A splutter and a strained gurgle drew the attention of the elves.

"This one appears to be alive." Glorfindel said as the trio of elves stood around the still-living orc.

The orc spoke in a guttural voice: "You're too late."

"I dare say we've arrived just in time to see you die." Glorfindel said.

The orc let out an evil grin. "You're still too late. The elf has gone."

"Gone where?" Elladan asked.

"In here." The orc pointed at his stomach.

"You lie!" Elrohir shouted.

"He was delicious." The orc said. "If small."

Just before the orc could taunt the elves further, Glorfindel decapitated him.

"What do you think?" Elladan asked Glorfindel after a few moments.

"It's possible they might have been on Legolas' trail." Glorfindel said. "But I can't be sure."

"They could have been, but Legolas would know to avoid the Trollshaws, especially at night. Or at least I hope so." Elrohir said.

"Maybe they caught him outside the Trollshaws? Orcs would have no need to fear Trolls in such a troupe, not as much as Legolas would, at least." Elladan said.

"Let us quickly burn the corpses anyway. It won't do for the trees to rot because of the orcish filth." Glorfindel said.

* * *

A short while later, the dead orcs were burning up in a pile in the middle of a clearing. All three elves rode northwards with a heavy heart. They had found no sign of Legolas, except for what the orc told them. None of them could dare thinking about what would happen if Legolas had been slain by orcs, if he had died. Both Elladan and Elrohir had paled very much when they had realized that they were indirectly responsible for Legolas' possible death. Glorfindel too had realized the implications of Legolas' death, but he managed to keep his face blank, unlike the twins.

* * *

As the three elves from Rivendell rode northwards, Legolas struggled to travel west. The plain south of the Ettenmoors had suffered from the snow more than Rivendell had, as it was covered in a few inches of whiteness. It didn't impede his walking, but the small elf had become hypothermic from the cold.

Elves normally were almost impervious to any kind of weather. They felt the differences between hot and cold, wet and dry and windy and calm better than mortals, but they were simply unaffected. Only small elflings, or the ill and wounded were susceptible to it, though even they wouldn't succumb quickly.

While Legolas was old enough to potentially be almost fully grown in body, he simply wasn't. He was more than a foot shorter than even a short adult elf, and he had no big muscles to protect himself with. No, the small elf had the musculature of a child, and even a very lean one at that. And he was unhealthily thin on top of that. He could count every one of his ribs clearly and if it weren't for his clothes, you could see his hip bones sticking out too. And on top of still being an elfling, in essence, he was hurt too. He had been knocked unconscious back in the cave in the Misty Mountains, and while the wound to his head was healing adequately, it progressed slowly and made him tire very quickly. And due to the lack of food, since no plants carried fruit in winter, the small elf had been hungry since long before dawn.

It was true that Legolas was not a stranger to hunger. His father had often sent him to his room without food if he was bad, and Legolas had spent many nights sleepless from hunger pains. And later, when Thranduil perceived him to be too old for those punishments, he sometimes felt so unwanted during mealtimes that he just couldn't eat in the main hall. He wasn't allowed in the kitchen without permission from Thranduil, and most servants would suddenly be very busy if he wanted to ask for food. But despite those facts, the hunger still made the small elf weaker.

Cold and hungry, the small elf labored onwards through the snow.

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**A/N: Please tell me what you like/dislike about the story. I'm always pleased to get feedback from reviewers.  
**


	19. Capture

**A/N: I apologize for taking close to two months to update. I have not given up on the story (as should be obvious from this new chapter), but I had hit a writer's block halfway through this chapter. But I overcame it (just this past week), and I wrote a bit more to make up for it. As I feel that they should be two different chapters, even if just for the number of words, this will be a double post of Chapter 19 and 20 in one go. **

**I found out today that I passed the CPE with a grade A, of which I'm very proud (though it was a bit disconcerting to see that my writing ranked 'borderline' while all the other parts were above exceptional). I also finished a large part of my school exams, though the final (central, national exams) will take place in just over two weeks (stretching out for three weeks). Unfortunately, I just got my minecraft setup to work, and Diablo III is coming out in a few weeks, so I'm not sure I can spend a very large lot of time writing. Oh, and there are exams too, but they're not so much fun to prepare for.  
**

**Listen to me drabble on, I think I will forego an author's not on chapter 20 just to spare you my drabble.  
**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 19

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At the end of the day, Legolas had sought shelter in a small group of trees. The flat plain between the Misty Mountains, the Ettenmoors, Trollshaws and the Hoarwell in the west wasn't completely flat. There were a several large boulders and rocks spread over the plain, as if giants beings had ground up a mountain in chunks of rock and spread it out. And at some places, the land dropped as if someone had taken a bite out of the plain. It was in one of those downs that Legolas found his shelter.

With his gait reduced to a stumbling walk, often interrupted by falling over and getting up again. The small elf only wore the thin clothes he had been clothed in since leaving his room in Rivendell, and they were not suited for the cold winter weather. The plain was open to the wind coming from up the mountains, and the cold seemed to go right through him. By the time the small elf found a hole in an old oak to sleep in, his lips were blue from the cold and he was as pale as the snow that had fallen between the leaves.

For the first time in a long while, though, Legolas was lucky. Saved from rot by something – be it the small hollow in the land where the patch of trees grew, or the bare rocks underneath it – a small pile of old leaves was on the ground. It wasn't large, and the leaves were old and quite dry, but to Legolas it was a godsend. The small elf managed to get his frozen fingers to grab handfuls of leaves, and he brought them to the hole in the old oak. When there were no more leaves on the ground, Legolas crawled into the hole and covered himself up as good as possible before curling up.

Unbeknownst to Legolas, the small hollow in the plains where the patch of trees grew housed a cave. It wasn't a large cave, nor was it very deep, but it was a hideout for orcs and other vile creatures. It had been part of a crude orcish trading route, between the caves in the Misty mountains and the kingdom of Angmar in the north. And though the Witch King of the north had been defeated year ago, and his orcs with it, the goblins from the Misty mountains had taken over part of the route.

The small cave now served as a sort of station where the goblins could spend the day. They'd only travel by night, much like orcs, but Goblins were more affected by sunlight than orcs. The goblin town to the east and the refuge of the goblins in mount Gram to the north both regularly sent out patrols and messengers, though sometimes goods were transported over the route as well. And it only happened to be so that right at the moment Legolas sought shelter in the oak, a goblin troupe carrying a message from the Goblin king in the Misty Mountains had sought shelter from the sunlight in the cave.

Legolas had reached the small hollow while the sun shone its last rays on the land. One of the goblins in the cave stood on guard, hidden from the sunlight by thick bushes. He had a clear view of the small patch of land, so it wasn't strange that the goblin patrolling the entrance to the cave, hidden behind a few bushes, noticed Legolas. He lost sight of the elf though when Legolas made his way downwards, into the gap in the land and behind the trees. But as the sun's rays hadn't yet disappeared completely, the goblin patrol did nothing.

There were eight of them in total. It was the standard size for a messenger group, this one carrying a message from the Goblin town to mount Gram. All of them carried swords or large daggers, crudely made by the goblin forges, but none carried bows. None of them were very experienced warriors, and all of them had been chosen for this task because the message wasn't that important. Nonetheless, they still were warriors, or the goblin version of soldiers, so they knew that they couldn't let an enemy discover their hideout. So, as soon as the sun had completely disappeared, half of the group ventured out of the cave into the hollow to search for the elf, the other half stayed inside to guard the message.

* * *

A good hour later, the group of goblins was on the verge of leaving the hollow. None of them had seen signs of the elf – not that they were particularly skilled trackers or searchers – until one goblin thought it necessary to inspect a big oak tree with a hole in it. Through the dark of the night, enough light was spread by the moon and the stars that the pale-blond Mirkwood hair spread it's tell-tale light. And while goblins live underground, they are not blind, and they could clearly see that a pale strand of hair doesn't belong in the hollow of an oak tree.

The goblin that found him quickly called for his comrades, not knowing that doing so near another elf would've immediately alerted them to his presence, and they quickly dropped everything they were doing.

The lack of response at their cries could've been a sign that something was wrong with the elf, but the Goblins didn't notice it. Nor did they notice the lack of response when the crudely hit away the leaves that had hidden Legolas and pulled him out of the tree harshly. Only when he didn't react as one of them smashed it's sword (blunt-side forward, luckily) into Legolas' middle, did they notice the elf was unconscious.

They didn't know how to react to an unconscious elf. An active enemy was easy, you just hit it until it doesn't move anymore, but an unconscious elf… what did one do with an unconscious enemy? After a minute of deliberation, they dragged the unconscious elf towards their cave. There was a price for any goblin that brought an elf to the king, who would question the elves to learn of their evil deeds. And Goblins, different from orcs, have at least some sense of monetary worth. They don't have a currency system, of course, but they understood material value. The price for capturing any elf alive was a set of armour fresh from the forges, an almost kingly gift among goblins, usually only reserved for those higher up the chain of command.

It wasn't strange therefore that the goblins decided not to let their prisoner to die. They didn't know what ailed him, for they were no medics, nor had any of them any skill at healing at all. His unconscious state saved Legolas from torture. The goblin group dragged him over to a crude form of cart, which was used to carry loads by the goblins, and was thrown on top of it. Since they didn't feel like carrying much of their things, the goblins threw the various items they used for treks such as these on top of the elf. Without further ado they left the cave, pulling the cart themselves (since goblins don't use horses, much preferring to eat them).

The fact that he was covered with items, including multiple cloths that served as both cloaks and blankets at the same time, might have saved Legolas' life. He was hidden underneath thick layers of fabric, and hidden from the wind as well by the cart, so little by little the elf became warmer.

* * *

Only an hour before dawn, the goblins reached the Hoarwell. It was quite a large mountain river, even for the time of the year and even this far to the north. It was fed by large amounts of small streams coming from the Misty mountains and from the lands even more to the north, Angmar. Further to the south the stream would steadily grow larger, until it was larger than the Anduin was at the falls of Rauros. And when the Glanduin, the river coming from Moria and the southern part of the Misty Mountains, merged waters with the Hoarwell, the resulting stream went further towards the sea as the Greyflood, Gwathlo in Sindarin. The part where the goblins had arrived at was one of the few places where the usually wild river was calmer, and more shallow, so it functioned as a crossing place of some sorts. Despite that, the river was still almost a hundred yards wide from shore to shore.

The Hoardale, through which the Hoarwell, or Mitheithel, ran, was quite a deep dale, running from the Misty Mountains in the north to the Swanfleet in the south, where the land became flatter. To the east was a large plain with only some trees scattered around for protection, but to the west was a more rugged terrain, carved out by many streams flowing into the Hoarwell. At the eastern part of the river, where the troupe of goblins was, was a large cave hidden by a hill that seemed to have been planted almost in the middle of the river. A small bay had been formed at the upstream side of the rocky outcrop, in which the streaming water had carved out a small cave. The goblins that had discovered this cave, and another cave a few hundred yards upstream at the opposite end of the river, had made a crude boat system. It relied on manpower, or goblin-power in this case, and was only useable because the river was quite wide, and didn't run so fast here. But the boat system was the only way of crossing the river in winter, when the waters became icily cold, save for the elfin bridges of the Great East Road leading to Rivendell and the Greenway, the Old South Road, crossing the river at Tharbad in the south.

The group of goblins loaded the cart, with Legolas still on it, on the boat and began to paddle to the other shore. The current wasn't particularly strong, even in the spring and summer when the snow of the Misty Mountains melts, so they had little trouble in getting the boat upstream. Though when they did finally reach the other side, the first rays of the sun began to escape past the high peaks of the Misty Mountains, and the goblins sought shelter in the cave upstream.

* * *

A few minutes travel from the cave where the goblins had taken refuge, a band of rangers from the north had taken position. Aranuir, son of Arahael, was their Chieftain. With the destruction of the kingdom of Arnor by the forces of the Witch King several centuries earlier, the remains of the Dunedain from the north had banded up under the leadership of the Chieftains. The Capital of Arnor, Fornost, was in ruins, as were all of the other towns and settlements, so the Dunedain, who called themselves the Rangers, had become almost nomadic in nature.

This particular band of rangers consisted of ten men, an unusually large group. Most rangers prefer solitude, protecting the lands to the south from orcs and goblins by killing messengers, stopping communication. They didn't have any advantage of numbers on the creatures of evil, so they resorted to guerilla-tactics out of need. The reason a band of this particular size had assembled here was to stop the goblin communication route between the Misty Mountains and Mount Gram.

One of the younger rangers had taken up position just north of the entrance to the goblin cave, and he had left to warn the Chieftain of their arrival as soon as he was certain they would stop in the cave.

"Aranuir, the goblins have entered the cave." Beledur, the young Dunadan that had stood guard at the cave, spoke after entering the small clearing they had camped in.

"Good. We shall surprise them in an hour's time, when they are drowsy from the sun's rays." Aranuir spoke.

"They are not with many, though. I counted only eight of them, and they were carrying strange things in their cart." Beledur said.

"Then they must carry another message then, an unimportant one, since they are not with many. We will slay them nonetheless. But what were they carrying then?"

"It almost looked as if they were carrying something elfin in their cart. I was not able to look closely, since they would have smelled me and be prepared for our attack, but something from the cart shone with a light akin to the moon."

"Perhaps they have looted an elfin sword, or elfin weapons. Which only brings us back to the conclusion that we shall attack them in an hour's worth of time." Aranuir spoke.

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**A/N: Reviews are welcome! **


	20. Capture again

**A/N: Not foregoing the author's note after all. I just wanted to say to those of you that have no clue where this is all playing: I used a map to find the names of the places. I didn't make anything up from the names of the rivers, forests or mountains, and there are several very high quality maps availabe for free on google. I love nonexisting geography, so I very much enjoyed discovering which terrain feature was where**.

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 20

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The goblins had arrived in the cave at the western shore of the Hoarwell, and when they noticed that their captive elf showed signs of life, they quickly bound his hands and feet. But, as creatures of evil are wont to do, they became impatient.

Legolas slowly returned to consciousness, fighting the dark sleep that was still threatening to lure him back to the realm of unconsciousness. But suddenly an ice-cold wave hit him, because one of the goblins had poured icy-cold water over his head, and the delicate elf was shocked awake.

"Good, you're awake." The goblin that fancied himself the leader of the bunch spoke in broken, harsh-sounding Westron.

"Now tell us why you were spying on us!" Another exclaimed, eliciting a glare from the goblin that spoke first.

The small elf observed his situation. His hands and feet were bound, and there was nothing he could do against the goblins in his state, without a weapon or freedom of movement. He knew that they'd probably kill him, and that he couldn't do a thing about it. So he decided to tell the truth, since lying was a sin and one shouldn't make enemies of the Valar by sinning just before one's death.

"I wasn't…" Legolas said before he was interrupted.

"LIES!" Shouted a third goblin.

"Hoshat!" The first goblin shouted, meaning 'silence' in Orcish.

"Tell us!" The second goblin cried.

"I w…" Legolas tried to say again.

"LIES!" The third goblin shouted again.

Now a fourth goblin joined, smacking Legolas in the face for not answering the question.

"Stop it!" The first goblin cried, trying to get some semblance of order.

Seeing violence being inflicted on an elf was enough to rouse the minds of the remaining for goblins, who were quite a bit less intelligent than the first four. The four of them simultaneously jumped up and started beating the elf from all sides using whatever they had in their hands.

The first goblin, who had been trying to get the other goblins back into order earlier, dove upon the four dumb goblins attacking Legolas. He fancied himself a leader, and wanted the loot that comes with rightfully capturing a live elf. The second goblin, who was paranoid about elfish spies, jumped back out of the fray to avoid an elfish trap, while the third and fourth goblin started hitting away at any elfish body part they could come in contact with.

The fight between the goblins turned nastier when one of them pulled the first blade, with the others soon following. One particularly ugly blade, with serrated edges full of rust, wielded by a goblin just as ugly as the blade, was stabbed into Legolas' side. Another, though less ugly, was forced higher up in his side, but it almost struck wide since the goblin stabbing it was run through with the first blade.

This display of goblin-on-goblin violence turned the others from Legolas like flies are drawn to honey, and soon the goblins were killing eachother. Before Legolas could be stabbed again, the number of goblins had dropped from eight to three, one of which was missing both arms, so in actuality it was two goblins and a bit. And as the last two whole goblins managed to kill each other at the same time, one stabbing his blade through the other's eye while being run through from the underside, Legolas was alone in the cave.

'Thump!' An arrow from outside the cave struck the bodies of one of the dead goblins.

Not a whole second after the first arrow, at least eight other arrows struck the goblin bodies closest to the entrance. Being dead though, none of the bodies moved, to great puzzlement of the men that fired the arrows.

"They appear to be dead." Aranuir the Chieftain spoke from where he was hidden behind a tree. "Beledur, how many did you count?"

"I counted eight, and they were the only ones that came from the boat." Beledur answered.

"Menehad," Aranuir said, after thinking who of the rangers had stood guard over this cave the longest, "could there be other goblins in the cave?"

"We would've noticed them." The gruff Menehad spoke. "Goblins make a right mess of their things."

"Very well. Let us search the cave then."

Aranuir handed his bow to Menehad, who would remain behind to guard their backs, while Beledur and three of the others drew their blades. They sneaked towards the cave, which would have notified most orcs and goblins of their arrival, and might just be enough to spring any trap that had been planned.

But as soon as the group entered the cave, the only things they saw were dead goblins, and the small elf chained to a boulder in the back of the cave. Wary of any traps by the goblins, Aranuir slowly moved forward. The elf looked up dazedly, as if he wasn't entirely aware where he was. Tension built, but nothing happened. When Aranuir reached the elf, he quickly cut the ropes tying him to a boulder, and allowed the elf to slump against his side. Beledur quickly came to his help, they put Legolas' arms over their shoulder and they started carrying him out of the cave.

"Beledur, there's no need for you to take all his weight. I may be old, but I'm not that old." Aranuir spoke in dark humor.

"I'm not taking all his weight, you are." Beledur retorted.

"I'm not, truly."

"You're not?"

"No."

They had reached the end of the cave, and they carefully laid down the elf in the light of the sun.

Legolas looked even paler than normal. He had been hypothermic from the cold last night, and he was still suffering from the cold weather, but he also suffered from blood loss via his stab wounds. Aranuir, who possessed the best healing skills, quickly knelt down next to the elf and began to examine the places where blood had begun to seep through the thin clothes Legolas was wearing.

"Aranhad, quickly run back to camp and find some athelas. I fear these wounds may be poisoned. The rest of you, search some sturdy branches to lift him back to camp, since he won't be in any condition to walk soon." Aranuir spoke quickly while examining the wounds.

The rangers followed his orders immediately. Before long, Aranhad had returned from the camp with athelas, some clean water and several old rags that could be used as a bandage. Aranuir bandaged up Legolas as good as he could under the circumstances.

"Bring him to the camp." Aranuir ordered his men, who had already made a construct to lift the small elf.

* * *

Legolas woke up slowly. His side hurt a lot, and his head hurt too, so he fought against the dark sleep of unconsciousness.

"Easy there." A voice said from above him in slightly mangled Sindarin.

"Where am I?" Legolas asked softly.

"Safe enough, for now. My name is Aranuir, a Ranger from the North."

"Legolas." Common courtesy would dictate that he'd tell where he'd come from, but since he was banished, Legolas figured he came from nowhere.

"I see. Can you perhaps tell me, Legolas, how you ended up in the hands of the goblins?"

Legolas let out a soft sigh. "I lost my way in the Misty Mountains, and I was captured on a plain west of there." It wasn't the whole truth, but he told no lies.

"And what reason does an elf have to travel through the Misty Mountains alone, in winter?" Aranuir asked. It might not be exactly courteous, but he had a job to make sure his people were safe.

"I was…" Legolas spoke softly, ashamed of himself. "…banished from Mirkwood."

"When?" Aranuir asked, his voice soft. He knew what banishment meant for an elf, for any creature to be banished from an Elfin Kingdom. And the small, delicate creature in front of him couldn't even be fully adult yet.

"Not yet four nights ago, I think." Legolas answered.

"It will undoubtedly be rude of me to ask, and I would not especially mind should you refuse to answer, but wherefore were you banished?" Aranuir asked.

Legolas let out a soft sigh, and turned his head and gaze down submissively. "I'm a worthless elf, so they cast me out because I was nothing more than a burden on them."

Aranuir observed the small elf in front of him. He was built exceptionally delicate, even for an elf, and the way he held himself in a conversation screamed even more clearly that this was not a mighty elf warrior. No, the elf in front of Aranuir was much more of a healer, or maybe a scholar or a diplomat. Or even an artist, maybe, since elves were renowned for their penchant for songs and poems, riddles and stories. He knew that some elves had, mostly a long time ago, in a different age, placed much virtue on being a warrior. But to be cast out for just being a warrior was strange already, though it was a possibility.

Despite that, Aranuir had to make sure this was not an elaborate ploy to hurt his people. He knew that was very unlikely, but certainty was worth more in the long run. So Aranuir carefully put his hand on Legolas' chin, who flinched at the contact, and lifted his head up to meet his eyes.

Legolas began to squirm under the heavy gaze, trying to get away from the eyes observing him, like a young dog that has been treated cruelly by his masters for a long time would try to get away from humans. He was being judged, like he had been judged many times back at his old home to see if he spoke the truth. But in Mirkwood, not many elves had believed Legolas' word, not even on matters of life and death. He had been judged many times to have been lying, where he had been speaking the truth. Though, if they thought he was lying now, this group of rangers would undoubtedly throw him out into the wild again, effectively sentencing him to death.

When Aranuir had finished determining Legolas' truthfulness, and let his grip on the elf go, the small elfling curled up on himself, pulled his knees up to his chin and put his arms in front of his head to protect him.

Aranuir sat down across from the small elf and pondered. He had found no lie in the small elf's eyes, though his body betrayed his nerves. And someone who was lying would have a reason to be nervous in front of him, wouldn't he? But, on the other hand, a deceiver would try to hide his nerves, which the small elf obviously couldn't or didn't do. But then again, that could be an elaborate ploy too.

Aranuir figured out he'd just have to rely on his instincts. They had served him well for as long as he had lived, which was longer than most other mortal men, and they told him to not only take the small elf in, but also protect him and cherish him as if he were his own son. So without much of the second thoughts he had had about the elf, Aranuir cut through the knot of suspicions.

"Legolas, in this weather you would not make it very far alone, nor could you do anything to redeem yourself in the eyes of the elves. Therefore, I will allow you to come with us, and be one of us, a Ranger of the North, so that you may work against the forces of Evil, and redeem yourself in the eyes of those who had thought you wrong."

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**A/N: Reviews are Welcome!**


	21. A Strange Sleeper

**A/N: Hello everybody! I apologise (again) for the lateness of this chapter. I have had my finals, and I've passed! I'm very happy because of that. I'm currently having a bit of trouble writing - finding inspiration for this story. I sort of know where I want to go, roughly, but I don't know how to get there in a good way. I am planning on having kind of a battle in the next chapter, but I need to be in exactly the right mood to write an action scene, especially one of the length I have planned. I'm hoping I can make the next update a bit faster, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm going on a holiday halfway through July, but I hope to have the next chapter out before that.**

**With the addition of the new image-system, I'm sort-of half-heartedly looking for the perfect picture that fits this story. If anyone knows a picture that he/she would think fits this story, please send me a link, or if you're creative enough, draw your own picture. I'm looking for something that captures the image of Legolas sketched in this story, but, of course, you're free to draw whatever you want and send me a link if you think it fitting!  
**

**On another note, I want to thank everyone that has reviewed and/or messaged, it does wonders for my motivation to write another chapter of this story. **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 21 - A Strange Sleeper

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Glorfindel, Grandson of the Vala Vanya, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, was ashamed of himself. Firstly because he, supposedly the best tracker West of the Misty Mountains, had lost a trail, and secondly, because he should have and could have noticed something was off with the eldest Mirkwood prince. He should have noticed something wrong because he was supposed to be the WISE Glorfindel, the 'Mighty Warrior' who stood for all that was good and righteous. But he hadn't seen anything, he hadn't noticed anything off. So Glorfindel was ashamed of himself. He didn't think he deserved the mouthful of titles he held, if he couldn't even help one little elfling in trouble.

Elladan and Elrohir Perendhil were ashamed of themselves. They had, despite all warnings of their father, Glorfindel and Erestor, pranked foreign dignitaries. The youngest Mirkwood prince had seen their prank as an attack, and when they had barged into his room unannounced, unasked and unwanted, they had violated their home's promise to accept Diplomats. And on top of that, their actions had caused the oldest prince of Mirkwood to be lost in the wilds somewhere, presumably dead. This could very well mean war between Imladris and Mirkwood. And it was their fault. They cast shame upon their house and their forefathers.

Elrond was ashamed of himself. He should have paid more attention to the princes of Mirkwood. Glorfindel, his sons, Erestor and even Lindir had all had an uneasy feeling around the two princes, specifically the youngest one, Aerolas. He should have trusted the intuition of the elves, and his own intuition. Now Glorfindel and his sons were trying to find a lost delegation of diplomats in winter. He couldn't keep the visions of a lone Legolas stumbling over a white, snow-filled plain out of his mind. The mere thought of having been able to prevent the death of the elfling that Legolas still was but not having done it, was enough to cause him sleepless nights. He was rumored to be wise, so why hadn't he seen or foreseen the signs?

Galadriel didn't smile her mysterious smile, for once. She had seen some of what had happened, despite the mountain range that stood in the way. She felt sorry for Legolas, and she was angry at Aerolas, though that couldn't be read from her demeanor. She could only hope everything worked out in the end, for she knew that Legolas had a role to play before the end of this age. She had seen many ways towards the future, but this was true for almost all of them. She saw it as her duty to protect Middle Earth from evil, and though she would forever carry this injustice in her heart, she did not act.

* * *

In the woods of Arnor, just a few minutes northwards from the Goblin-made crossing over the Hoarwell, the group of rangers sat around the campfire. They were awaiting a large goblin troupe, which had left the Refuge of the Goblins at Mount Gram a fortnight ago to travel southwards, to the Goblin city in the Misty Mountains north of Rivendell. Even travelling slowly, they should have arrived already at the crossing. This group carried several messages from those of the Goblins that held power, and they carried weapons and armor as well. The Rangers could scarcely afford to let this transport pass, since the goblins in their mountain strongholds were already raiding the lands below the shadow of the mountains too often for their liking.

Though the minds of the Rangers were still thinking of the goblins, they were more focused on their latest, though unsuspected, catch. A few meters away from their campfire laid a small elf, curled up in a cloak much and much too big for him, sleeping.

"He sleeps strange." Beledur, one of the younger rangers, remarked.

"That he does." Aranuir said pensively. He had a lot to think about, both the Goblins and their elfin foundling gave him food for thoughts. "He sleeps unlike all other elves I have ever met."

"Really?"

"Yes. Wait, that is not wholly true. When I was a young lad, a troupe of elves once came to help and fight of a band of orcs from the North. One of them was injured, and I remember one of the other elves telling me that only injured elves sleep with their eyes closed."

"I hadn't even though of that as strange. I always believed all elves slept in trees, instead of in beds or on the ground." Beledur said.

"Most elves choose the trees above the ground, if they must. But he doesn't come from Imladris, or Rivendell, but he comes from over the Mountains. I have only visited the other side of the mountains twice, and none of those times I entered the great wood of Mirkwood, or Greenwood the Great, as it was called long ago. His customs may be different from what we are familiar with."

Although Aranuir didn't know it, Legolas was sleeping strangely even for the customs of his land. The small elf had been given one of the rangers' spare cloaks, but it was much and much too large for him. He slept, like a little child who is afraid of the dark, with the cloak pulled over his head, so that only a small lock of blond hair could be seen from the small, delicate form. The small elf lay next to a tree, a few meters away from the campfire, curled up in the cloak.

"He looks peaceful now." Beledur said. When the Rangers had found the small elf in the cave, he had barely been conscious. In the hours that had passed, the small elf regained consciousness, but had not lost the frightened, lost look in his eyes. It was almost as if one looked in the eyes of a mistreated dog, accepting of whatever fate came next, and the hurt that undoubtedly came with it.

"That he does. It is very disconcerting to see such a haunted look in anybody's eyes, much less the eyes of an elfling like he." Aranuir said.

Unbeknownst to the two rangers, Legolas' sleep was much less peaceful than it seemed. Since childhood, the small elf had often been plagued by nightmares in his sleep, and this night was no different. But the young elf had learned to lay completely still while asleep, having nightmares or not. So while the small elfling was tormented on the inside, dreaming of storms, angry voices and faces, and pain, nothing was visible on the outside.

The Rangers around the campfire fell back into silence.

Suddenly, a small gasp could be heard from the cloak containing the small elf. Aranuir looked up and saw a stiffening of the small form. Since he was the closest, he moved closer towards the young elf.

"Legolas?" He asked.

The small elf seemed to stiffen again, even further, if that was possible, at the sound of his name. Aranuir saw this, and did not call out again. Instead, he slowly put his hand on where he guessed Legolas' shoulder to be.

The small elf jumped almost a meter up in fright, and only through centuries of keeping completely quiet out of fear of being noticed, Legolas managed to stop his scream.

"I'm sorry." The small elf apologized, surprising the already-surprised Aranuir.

"What for?" Aranuir asked after regaining his senses.

"For jumping." Legolas said after a few moments. "I shouldn't have been frightened so much."

"Being frightened is neither a sin nor a blessing, and it is not something you should apologize for." Aranuir said to the small elf. "But come, sit closer to the fire."

The delicate elf slowly, cautiously, moved closer to the fire. The other Rangers could clearly see the that Legolas was fearful of strangers, and they paid little attention to him, to make themselves seem less as a threat.

Aranuir saw the young elf sit like a frightened, chastised child. His knees were pulled up to his chin, and his arms around it, wary of everyone. It disturbed him, since he could not fathom why an elf would react or behave in such a way. The elfin Kingdom of Imladris, Rivendell in Westron, was the most beautiful and pure place he knew, and each and every elf was notoriously protective of their children. They were exceedingly rare, and he had only seen one elfling in his entire life, once, and she had been the happiest little thing he had ever seen. So why was the small elf, who looked to be still an elfling, acting like a mistreated young dog?

Several hours later, in the depth of the night, Aranuir still pondered that question. The guards had already been changed twice, and he had done both shifts, since he couldn't find his sleep. The young elf who had been the subject of his thoughts had fallen asleep again, and in a search for a warm spot, which he recognized from several of his younger nephews, Legolas had moved closer to him until he was laying against his legs. Aranuir did not mind, since it had been a while he had seen such an innocent gesture, and after months in the wilderness, a sleeping elf is one of the purest things one can find.

* * *

A good day's travelling on horseback, or maybe two, if one was riding a slow horse, three elves had finally given up their search. They had lost and refound Legolas' trail several times over the past days, but they had lost it now almost a full day ago, and the freshly fallen snow had erased all possible tracks of the small elf.

"It is pointless." Glorfindel sighed. "We shall never find him now."

The Perendhil twins both let out a sigh at the same time.

"We can only hope for a miracle." Elladan said.

"Make that two, then." Elrohir said.

"It is indeed a miracle if this does not lead to a war." Glorfindel said. "A war that can rival the Feanurian Oath, if I think of Thranduil's temper.

Elladan and Elrohir remained silent, as they realized it was their fault that Legolas was missing, and most likely dead. To a strong, healthy and prepared elf, this weather would not have been much trouble, but Legolas had not been prepared to be dragged out of his room in plain clothes, and to have to survive with them in the winter snowfalls.

That, and, both twins realized, Legolas wasn't the strongest of elves. The small elf radiated innocence, the image of a sweet, easily frightened and very delicate elfling. He did not possess the power, neither in strength, nor in mind or in appearance, that Glorfindel or their father possessed, and they themselves, to a lesser extent. On top of that, they expected the young elf was not in tip-top health. They had noticed the thinness of his wrists, the almost sunken-in cheeks, and they had seen how little the small prince ate.

Seeing that he was clothed in robes for inside, all three of the elves could only hope for a miracle that Legolas survived.

* * *

Another good three days' worth of travelling away, on the other side of the Misty Mountains, just a mile south of the river Rhimdath, a group of elves had travelled through the white winter landscape. There were seven horses, but only six riders. The single riderless horse was carrying an extra pack, and was secured to one of the other horses with an extra rope.

The group of elves had been riding in a very fast pace, though they had had trouble in the passes of the Misty Mountains, where they had had to drag the horses through mounds of snow over treacherous paths. But they had managed, and they would cross the Rhimdath where it met the Anduin, as the water was very wide and shallow there. Now, though, they had stopped for the night in the shelter of a small forest that looked out over the plains.

These elves, in true elfin fashion, slept in the trees, where they felt at home, and had left their horses free to roam on the ground. Only the riderless horse, who had proven to be prone to escape, had been secured to a tree.

That one riderless horse was, of course, Legolas's horse Araukalasse. The coy and calm mare had been forcefully taken with the ones that had hurt her rider, and the intelligent horse wanted nothing more than to escape. Over the past days, she had often tried to escape, until the other elves had tied her to their horses like a common mule! But nonetheless, she continuted trying to escape. Even now she had grabbed one of the ropes and was chewing on it as hard as she could to break it. If only she wouldn't be too late to help her master…

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**A/N: Reviews are welcome!**


	22. The Battle of The Clearing

**A/N: Hello everybody!**

**Despite my own laptop crashing today (I have both a highly autistic laptop and a mentally retarded Ipod, combining them is not a good idea), I have written more than half of this chapter in one big sit. I'm going on a holiday soon (Spain, here I come), and I promised you a new chapter before that. Therefore, here it is. It's unbeta-ed (as usual), and mostly fresh-from-the-press, so there might be more spelling errors than normal. I typed this on another keyboard than my usual one as well, so if there are any funny typo's I've missed, please tell me and I'll correct them.  
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**On another note, I've finished high school! Yay! A few of my friend go the same uni I'm going to next year, so I'll keep on seeing them, but most of the people I know will disappear from my life. I'm not very good at meeting new people, so I'll hope everything will work out well in August, when the introduction to the university starts.  
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**Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, I've tried to make it action-filled, but I'm not sure how that worked out. Please let me know!  
**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 22

* * *

The small elf that lay curled up in a much too large cloak suddenly awoke with a sense of dread. He sat up, catching the attention of the Ranger standing guard, Beledur.

Beledur watched as the young elf looked around attentively before focusing on one direction. Then the small elf looked around, to seek out the one standing guard. As soon as Legolas saw him, the elfling crawled out of his cloak and walked over.

"There are goblins nearby." Legolas said softly.

"Truly?" Beledur asked.

"Yes. Not more than a few minutes away, but they are with many."

"I will wake the rest, if you will wake Aranuir."

The young elf nodded before moving over to the Ranger Chieftain and waking him.

"Aranuir. Arnuir wake up, please."

"What is the matter?" A sleepy Aranuir asked.

"There are goblins nearby, and they will be upon us in minutes."

Aranuir immediately sat up straight and, after grabbing his sword and daggers, followed the elf in waking up the rest of the rangers. They could not make too much noise, since any noise might alert the Goblins that they were awake.

* * *

Silently, swiftly and efficiently, the Rangers prepared an ambush for the Goblins. Legolas watched with almost childish awe, as he had only seen such a level of coordination in his father's soldiers. When he had been younger, Legolas had often been taken on a patrol with his father, and each and every elf in the patrol had worked with such a silent efficiency as the Rangers did now. Not a single action was unnecessary or useless, and everything necessary was carried out as quickly as possible.

It had been very different with the patrols he had been expected to lead. He had never possessed any leadership capabilities, Legolas believed, and he had not taken charge of the patrol, as Thranduil would have wished. In the patrols he was in, everything was more lax and easy-going. If there was a problem, it remained until someone thought it prudent to fix it. The last time Legolas had been captured by spiders, not a few fortnights earlier, it had taken close to an hour before any of the elves he had been on patrol with had found him.

The small elf blamed himself for that kind of mindset. Before he had been the one responsible on the patrols, every elf he had seen, had been efficient, fast and hard-working. The fact that that had more to do with the presence of his father, rather than that every elf always worked in silent efficiency, escaped him. Elves were creatures of fun and joy, of songs and jokes, and they could not last without them for very long. Most elves of Mirkwood did not really consider Legolas their prince and a warrior, since the small elf looked more like a shy elfling, and acted more like it too, so they were relaxed and easy-going around the small elf.

* * *

"Legolas, are you able to fight?" Aranuir asked, startling Legolas out of his reminiscing.

"I can shoot with a bow and arrow." Legolas answered softly. He'd never been worth anything as a melee fighter, except in the situations where he could strike with the swift stroke of a dagger.

"Very well. The goblins are coming from the West, around the hill to the North. They must think we're still sleeping, so we'll let the fire burning. You must find a spot from where you can hit the Goblins without attracting attention. The Goblins are a troupe of war, they carry bows and they are the size of a small legion."

Legolas nodded, but then realized he missed a vital part. "I don't have a bow." He said softly.

Aranuir thought for a moment. There are no war bows left between all of us, but I believe Aradath has a spare hunting bow in his pack. It is a bit too small for great distances, but I think the size will fit you well.

Aranuir softly called Aradath, who walked out from behind a series of bushes. In only a few words, Aranuir made the situation clear, and Aradath grabbed his hunting bow from his pack.

Legolas had always had a bit of trouble with the bows normally used by elves. While the bows of the Mirkwood elves aren't as long as the famed Longbows of Lothlorien, or the Bows of the wars of old, they were still quite long, and capable of shooting very large distances. Legolas always had trouble spanning the bow to its fullest, since his reach wasn't big enough for the bow. He was quite a capable archer with the bows despite the difficulties in size, but it wasn't a perfect fit.

The bow Aradath had given Legolas, however, was much better suited for his size. It was only a simple bow, made from the dark wood native to the lands of the North, and it had the coarse, human-made string that no elfin bow carried. Nonetheless, it suited Legolas, especially in his borrowed Ranger cloak.

Legolas spoke a quick word of thanks before looking around the clearing and selecting a tree to the south. It was a large Elm that hung a bit over to the East, and carried branches thick enough to his Legolas in his Ranger cloak.

The winter cold had removed most of the leaves from the forest, but several hardened bushes still carried leaves. Three pairs of Rangers, armed with bows, had taken refuge behind the thick, thorned leaves and stems. Several other Rangers hid themselves behind thick tree-stems, or in the shadows of clumps of trees. Aranuir himself had hid himself just out of sight in a particularly thick Oak, which must have been hundreds of years old. He stood on a thick branch, bow at the ready, and the remaining Rangers had followed his example, and sought refuge in one of the trees.

Legolas could feel the Goblins coming nearer and nearer. He could sense the agitation in the trees, the fear of being burned and destroyed by these creatures of evil. He could even hear their footsteps already, loud as they were, because the goblins were certain that the human Rangers were sleeping. He waited, the air around him tense, and the Rangers' faces grim and set. No goblin would leave the clearing alive tonight, and the woods of Arnor would be safer.

* * *

The first of the ugly creatures broke from the shadows that had hid them, crawling forward through the beams of soft moonlight, stalking towards the fire, which had almost finished burning. Several packs and cloaks were left around the fire, serving as decoys.

The goblins were hideous creatures, made even more grotesque by the dim light of the moon and the low fire that burned in the middle of the clearing. They wore dark armor, forged by the black forges underneath Mount Gram in the north. For all that they were ugly, they were as silent as wolves that are watching their prey.

Legolas watched and waited for the signal to fire as the goblins poured from between the trees to the east. Aranuir wasn't visible from where he was standing, but he could see another Ranger, of which he didn't know the name. He knew that he needed to fire as quickly and accurately as possible if the signal was given. There were only ten rangers, eleven on their side, Legolas included, and there were close to a hundred goblins.

Tension rose as the goblins crept forward towards the fire and the decoys. Should they find that there were no Rangers in the clearing, they would immediately suspect an ambush. They would be able to react much faster to the rain of arrows and swords then, taking away the only advantage the Rangers had – the advantage of surprise.

Legolas saw the Ranger he could see raise his hand as a sign to get ready. He soundlessly took an arrow from the quiver he had been given, notched and drew back the string.

On the small move of the hand from the Ranger that Legolas assumed could see Aranuir, six bowshots sounded from the trees. Most of Rangers had been in the southern end of the clearing, since the trees there were thicker and bushier, but a few goblins fell from the north side as well. Legolas' arrow had hit one of the goblins in front of the rest, and the small elf felt no mercy for the dark creature as it fell to the ground, blood pouring from its neck.

The goblins all looked up in surprise as some of their comrades fell – seemingly from nothing – in the dark. Legolas had loaded and fired another arrow, taking down another goblin. The other rangers that were agile enough to climb into the trees and get their bows out also continued firing, though they did not have the elfin sleight of hand that Legolas possessed – even if he didn't recognize it.

Another salvo of goblins went down from arrows before the bulk of the group had realized that they were being ambushed. Some charged to the south, since they had seen arrows come from there. Others charged to the north, east and west, since they had also seen arrows come from there. None of them realized that this was what Aranuir had intended to do with the ambush.

The main power of creatures of the dark like Goblins and Orcs is their number. One man can easily best an orc in battle, or two, or four, but against twenty or more opponents at the same time, even the mightiest warrior falter and fall. Aranuir had effectively split up the group of over a hundred goblins into smaller groups, spread evenly over all the rangers on the ground. The archers would pick off as much as they could, to give the swordsmen better chances. A hundred goblins on a single man is too much, but twenty goblins focused on a Ranger, with another ranger or elf supporting him from away with a bow is survivable.

Legolas drew, aimed and shot goblins in the span of seconds. His keen elfish senses saw easier in the dark than the eyes of men, even rangers, and the elfin arrows had no trouble finding a neck, a leg or an eye. Even a particularly ugly and large goblin carrying two swords and no chestplate found himself with an extra piece of wood embedded in his body.

In the time the goblins needed to reach the edge of the clearing where the Rangers held up, Legolas had taken down four goblins. That meant, however, that there were still some twenty-odd goblins charging at the lone Ranger below him, which Legolas couldn't see because of the thick tree branches he was hidden by.

The goblin charge had now reached most of the rangers on the ground around the clearing. Between letting an arrow fly and reaching for another, Legolas saw Aranuir cutting down two goblins at the same time. Another ranger, on the other end of the clearing, was defending himself against eight opponents at the same time, while one of the archers near him took aim at the attackers. Legolas saw one goblin emerge from behind the trunk of the tree near the ranger, aiming to attack him from behind. In one fluid movement, the young elf dropped his aim from a goblin below him to the one attacking the ranger on the other end of the clearing. He let the arrow fly, and with a slight whistling sound, the arrow embedded itself into the mouth of the goblin.

Suddenly, Legolas heard a human shout from directly underneath him. He leaned backwards as far as he dared, and could just see one of the youngest rangers – Beledur – fall down with a dagger embedded in his leg. A heavily wounded goblin, with an arrow sticking out of his leg, had crawled around the ranger and had stabbed him in the leg with a knife.

Legolas immediately jumped down from the tree he was hiding in and, in his fall, notched an arrow, aimed and shot the orc that had stabbed Beledur right through the forehead. With surprisingly little sound, the small elf landed, rolled and immediately ducked away a swinging goblin sword. He managed to kick away the legs that supported the goblin and steal his dagger, letting his bow drop to the ground. He stabbed the goblin from below, surprising it, before grabbing his bow again and running away from the goblins.

He had drawn most of their attention away from Beledur, who could hold himself against two opponents even in his wounded state. A group of goblins took chase after Legolas, but the small elf had fled up a tree.

"Come down here, cowardly elf!" One of the goblins cried, followed by jeers from his comrades.

Almost immediately after that, an arrow flew from the tree, which was a thick pine tree that carried its needles all through the year. The goblin that had been on the unfortunate end of the arrow fell over with a dull thud, silencing the rest of the goblins in surprise.

Before Legolas could shoot another arrow, cries of anger erupted from the goblins beneath him. The goblins jumped towards the stem of the tree and climbed up. Goblins are surprisingly good climbers, but living their whole lives in dark caves and rarely seeing any trees makes them not recognize it as a climbing possibility. Now, however, seeing that there was an elf that could climb the tree, they wanted to get him and kill him.

Legolas, though surprised by the agility of the goblins, which caused him to have his first miss of the battle, jumped from the tree and rolled over to ease the landing. He quickly notched another arrow and shot the first goblin that jumped after him, catching it in midair. It landed unmoving in a heap below the tree, and the goblins cried out their rage at the small elf, but Legolas had run again.

Beledur had felled his two opponents, and was still standing despite his hurt leg. Legolas ran towards him and almost ducked behind him, before notching his bow and firing underneath the raised arm of the ranger. Another goblin was caught by surprise by the arrow, but the remaining goblins reached Beledur before Legolas could take down another one.

Legolas, foregoing his ranged attacks to help his injured friends, took out his stolen dagger and jumped next to Beledur to defend him. He evaded, ducked and jumped to stay out of reach of the swords, because he carried little armor, and stabbed, slashed and cut in return. Beledur and he each felled more than half of their opponents, as both of them struck at the last goblin at the same time. Legolas hit his side, while Beledur hit his head.

With the rush of adrenaline still in his system, Legolas looked around and saw that all the goblins had been defeated.

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**A/N: Reviews make me happy, even though I'll only read them in several weeks time!**


	23. Messenger of Bad News

**A/N: Hello everybody!**

**First off, I'd like to thank anyone who reviewed the latest chapter. I have now, at the moment of writing, exactly 175 reviews for this story. The latest chapter also lifted my story to 25,000+ views, something I couldn't have dreamed of when I started here on .  
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**Secondly, this chapter was an absolute pain to write. I have had requests on the situation in Mirkwood, and I had wanted to do a chapter on it already myself, and here it is. I hope it is readable, because it's shorter than the latest few chapters (not by much). I wrote this on a holiday in Spain, without internet (noooh!). The beaches were nice, however, and I have finally lost my corpse-like look a bit (for the first time in ever).  
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**Thirdly, and most abitiously, I have vowed myself to break all my personal records on this site this August. The records of most views in a single day (709, currently), and most in a single month (3055) are on my target list, and the ammunition will consist of this chapter, and the first and second chapters of a HP fanfic I will upload simultaneously (which will feature a much longer author's note than this). I do hope I can manage to break my records, I'd love for the readers in a single month to reach 10,000 (that would be epic!), but I will see how it goes.  
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**Fourthly, I'm starting university this year (Delft, NL, Applied Physics), and so I might be a bit busier than the previous years with learning-related work. It's about an hour travelling from door to door, and I'll lose some weeks early on with socializing activities (read: Beer). Also, I hope to get my driving license this month, which may not be a wholly good combination with the beer.  
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**Anyways, enough of this rambling.  
**

**Enjoy!**

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Chaper 23

* * *

"Milord, Prince Aerolas to see you." The elf guarding the door to the king's personal chambers spoke.

Though elves are and will always be creatures of great elegance, and always carry great love for things that are seemingly chaotic while they are very ordered in reality, King Thranduil of Mirkwood looked nothing less than harried, tired and overworked, and his personal chambers looked very disorganized.

The days that both his sons were away had not been kind to him. Orcs seemed to have smelled their departure, seeing that the attacks had increased in number, and that the creatures of the dark had been spotted further and further North. This, of course, had been going on for several decades now, but never as fast and never as widespread.

Thranduil had realized, and very begrudgingly admitted that he had been wrong about the contributions of his eldest son to the kingdom. He had sent Legolas away on patrols almost continuously, without rest, for the past few decades, and Legolas had always taken the southernmost patrols – those with the greatest risk, and those who where the longest away from home. Thranduil now realized that without his eldest son, nobody wanted to serve on the patrols deepest down south in Mirkwood, and nobody did. This meant that the orcs could run freely to the lands further north.

Thranduil had spent the last days worrying about the number of orcs, the locations of the orcs, plans for raids, arguments against and for several versions of the plans and why or why not execute them. On top of that, the winter was already proving to be a very harsh one this year, with many reports from patrols getting caught in snow-storms or blizzards, and many paths disappearing underneath the snow. And on top of that had the idiotic men from the lands to the east, from the City of Dale, sent out a convoy of diplomats to renegotiate trade agreements. They had, of course, been snowed in, caught by the fall of winter, and had had to be rescued. If they wouldn't have been found by one of the patrols, the trade agreement would've been void, and that would mean disaster for his kingdom.

All in all, Thranduil had been buried in worries and work over the past days and weeks, and was looking out to the return of his sons, who would very likely return with a treaty between Mirkwood, Lothlorien and Rivendell. If everything went wrong with the trade agreements with the people from Dale, he would be able to request support from his elfin allies.

Also, Thranduil had vowed to himself to be less harsh to Legolas. He wouldn't coddle him, since that would turn him into a weakling unfit to rule, but he had begrudgingly realized that Legolas might be worthy of a bit more recognition. The first thing he'd do was restore Legolas to his right-hand seat in the council-rooms, since it was traditional for the eldest son to sit there.

"Ada." Aerolas spoke after he had entered the room.

Thranduil, who had been lost in his thoughts again, answered. "Aerolas, you have arrived. What news do you bring?"

"I fear, ada, that I bring nothing but bad news." Aerolas said. Thranduil observed his son, and noticed that he was indeed looking like a messenger with nothing but bad tidings. He looked no less harried than Thranduil himself looked, but also travel-weary, and shocked to a certain extent.

"Then tell me, for I have had little but bad news since you were gone."

"When we first set out, everything started normally. The forest was normal, the elves acted normal, and even Legolas was his normal strange self. He was leading us, since he knew the way better than I did. The first days we travelled westwards, until we reached the forest edge. Then we turned southwards, but within the forest, in riding distance of the edge."

Aerolas paused to recollect his thoughts, and drink some of the water Thranduil had poured him.

"I didn't know, because I have never been so far south, but we travelled too close to Dol Guldur. On the night of one of the days, we were attacked by orcs. We fought, but we couldn't see Legolas anywhere, because he had disappeared. Elparion was hit in his stomach, and was really hurt. When Legolas appeared out of the trees when the battle was over, he appeared distressed. We rode towards Lothlorien as quickly as we could."

Aerolas paused again to let out a weary sigh.

"In Lothlorien, Legolas continued acting strange – disappearing on us, not talking at all. As you said, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel readily accepted your proposal. Their healers patched up Elparion as well as they could, and he rode with us to Rivendell. On the way to Rivendell, Legolas acted less strange, more like his usual self, but I think he had been preparing things for us in Rivendell."

Aerolas paused again for another drink of water.

"Lord Elrond was a courteous host, but his two sons were uncouth and barbaric. They delivered insults to both ourselves and our kingdom. I tried to reason with them, but Legolas didn't act. Lord Glorfindel and Lord Elrond both didn't raise many problems with the treaty, unlike what you expected, but the talks went slow. A few days later, I was attacked, in my own room. My own items were poisoned, which I found out by accident when a lock of my hair dropped in the jug of water I had been to drink from, and turned orange. I tested it again, with another lock, but it also turned orange. I immediately went to Legolas' room, to tell him about it, since he know more about poisons than I do, but I was attacked physically just after I entered his room."

Aerolas let out a sad sigh.

"I'm afraid, ada, that I did the wrong thing, and panic. We quickly packed everything we needed into our bags and rode away with great haste. We thought the group was complete when we left Rivendell, but when we reached the Misty Mountains, Legolas was nowhere to be found. His mount also disappeared, though I personally could have sworn I had seen him ride next to me when we left Rivendell."

Aerolas paused.

"Go on, Aerolas, tell me what you did afterwards." Thranduil spoke.

Aerolas appeared to be ashamed by what he was about to say, and he spoke softer. "We searched and retraced our steps several times, but we couldn't find hide nor hair of my brother. The night afterwards, a snowstorm fell, while we slept in a cave in the Mountains. We knew it was hopeless to search for trails afterwards, and we could not return to Rivendell, so we crossed the Mountains and rode home as fast as we could to bring the unfortunate news of my brother's demise."

Thranduil wasn't listening to Aerolas anymore. He was sitting rigidly on his wooden-carved chair, eyes wide open like someone frozen in a state of panic.

"… Legolas … dead?" Thranduil managed to bring out.

"I'm sorry, ada, but I fear that there was no way he could have survived alone in the snow. We searched as good as we could possibly do in that weather, but we couldn't find any tracks leading off of our own trail."

Tears began to form in Thranduil's eyes, but he remained unmoving in his chair, not responsive to his youngest son. Aerolas tried to speak to his father, but when no reaction came, he left his father's study.

His own son … dead. The crown prince, his heir … dead. The one he had trained to hard to make him a good king, a good leader … dead. The effects of Legolas' death had only barely began to reach Thranduil's stupefied mind, still reeling from the initial shock of surprise.

* * *

Four hundred and twelve miles westwards of where Thranduil sat with his head held between his hands, weeping for his deceased son, sat said deceased son, also weeping.

The small elf laid curled up in a cloak the Rangers had given him, hidden in one of the many small alcoves in the cave. This cave was the home of many Rangers and their families, their winter home. It was a deep cave, but it had many smaller openings bringing in fresh air, though too small for any person to enter through. Here was where those of the old Numenorean race resided during the cold winter months, when nothing grew outside and the wilds became nigh-intraversible.

The group of Rangers had brought their foundling elf with them through the snowed landscapes of the North, with as much hurry as they could, while not hurting their wounded from the battle. Aranuir had known it was risky to attempt to ambush goblins, since they are sneaky and slippery creatures, but his instincts had thought it necessary. Surely, the goblin legion they had slain would mean a large blow to the goblins in their refuge in the mountains, but goblin legions passed through the Wilds of the North quite regularly, and his instincts had never urged him so much to stop them. He was beginning to wonder whether it was because of the young, small elf they had found captive by the goblins that his instincts had been so active.

Legolas looked so young that Aranuir could do little but consider him a child, an elfling, and a very delicate one at that. But he had also proven to be a warrior, capable of holding himself admirably in battle, and a healer too, helping and caring for everyone even the slightest bit hurt by the goblins. His rangers were not used to someone as young, or young-looking at least, tending to their wounds, nor had they often seen or met elves. The small elf had had little trouble making the usually stubborn and gruff Rangers listen to him, strangely enough.

Now, however, in the depth of the night, when only a handful of fires were lit and most of the cave was asleep, the small, young elf had hidden himself away in one of the smaller alcoves, out of sight, and out of mind. He had crawled underneath the cloak he had been given, and curled up, hiding his face into his knees. He had no home anymore, no family, nothing. He had lost everything he had ever had, just because he wasn't a good enough elf. He was reduced to being a beggar, unable to care for himself, a burden on those kind enough to take pity on him.

The young elf had been raised with the idea that an elf must have a purpose and serve others to the best of his or her ability. Now, however, he had been cast out of his home and homeland because he had failed to contribute anything of value. He was lower than the lowest beggar in a human city, because he had failed to be an elf.

The young elf could do nothing but weep, softly, hidden away, as angry voices filled his head, spewing their hateful words. They had centuries of insults and unhappy memories to draw from, embarrassing moments of Legolas' failures, hurtful moments full of insults, and moments were Legolas had been ignored, unwanted. It was not strange that the delicate, curled up elfling, hidden beneath the thick cloak in the shadows of the cave, cried himself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:**

**To those who had noticed: Yes, nigh-intraversible is a made-up word. I think. Word didn't know it, and neither did the internet, so I made it up. It means: nearly impossible to traverse.****  
**


	24. Pondering upon Pondering

**A/N:**

**Hello everybody!  
**

**This is probably the shortest chapter I've written yet, and it's only half of the lenght I had hoped it to be. I'm posting this earlier than I had originally planned, since I'm starting University at the end of this week (introduction week, and all) so I won't be able to write nor post anything. And instead of having you all wait until halfway through September (or later, I can't yet accurately guess how much time 'the good life' will take), I've decided to post it now. It's just a little wrapping up chapter, clearing a loose and hopefully a little humoristic piece.  
**

**That said, I'm tired (it's late), and I won't bore you all to death with my rambling.  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 24

* * *

"You seem troubled, my dearest." Celeborn, Lord of the Forest of Lothlorien, spoke to his wife Galadriel.

Indeed, the wise Galadriel had been behaving slightly odd, even by her standards. She had appeared sunken in thoughts more than usual, and had even foregone her weaving to sit and ponder. Celeborn knew she had spent her nights in the Glade, where her Mirror stood, which she normally only reserved for special occasions or events. He knew, of course, of his wife's gifts in seeing, and he knew that it was a heavy burden upon her, but he also knew that if Galadriel acted as she had done for the past days, something important would come to pass, and it was most likely no good news.

Galadriel looked up at her husband. "Indeed I do, yet it is not I who is troubled."

"Would it be wise for you to tell me who, then, is the troubled one, O Lady of the Forest?" Celeborn said. He knew Galadriel loved to be mysterious, especially towards those rare guests that never entered his lands anymore.

Galadriel thought for a few minutes.

"Yes, I believe it would for once be wise if you knew who was the troubled one."

Secretly, Celeborn hated the fact that he'd have to ask each question at least two times, using different words, to get a straight answer out of his wife. He now regarded it as a sort of game, in which Galadriel would evade his questions for as long as she could, but he derived little pleasure from it.

"Tell me, O Lady of Laurelindorinan, who then is this troubled person of which you speak?"

Hopefully, this would get him a straight answer.

"The troubled one I speak of is the last troubled one you have seen." Galadriel spoke with her mysterious smile playing upon her lips.

Celeborn needed to think about this one. He hadn't really expected a straightforward answer, since they had only been playing the game for a few minutes, but he could try and figure this one out. He could rule out all elves of Lothlorien, since he knew of all their troubles. That left the emissaries from Mirkwood, because those were the only elves that had passed through his woods from foreign lands for the last years.

Celeborn's mind immediately brought the image of the smaller of the Mirkwood princes to the fore. She small elf had been shy during the conversations about the treaty, and very hesitant to speak. That on itself was nothing to be extremely worried about, since Celeborn could remember the younger elves almost trembling when they were meeting the Lady or himslef for the first time in an official capacity. So that wasn't strange, but the fact that the young elf seemed … skittish, afraid of any attention, and highly unused to being listened to, bespoke of something slightly odd going on.

"The smaller Mirkwood prince, what was his name again, ah, Legolas, was it not?" Celeborn asked his wife.

"Indeed."

So Celeborn had his answer… Yet not really an answer at all. He now knew that Legolas, the Mirkwood Prince, was troubled, but he knew Galadriel wouldn't clarify anything more on the subject of how or why he was troubled, much less if he could help.

If only she could answer straightly, for once. It would prevent those headaches that always mysteriously reared their heads when he was pondering upon his wife's pondering.

* * *

"My Lord, Lords Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir have returned." One of the elves that usually watched over the entrance to the valley of Rivendell spoke.

Elrond looked up from the map he was studying. "Thank you. You may go now."

"Very well, milord."

Elrond folded his hands together and almost let out a sigh. He had been studying the maps of the Northern parts of the Misty Mountains and Arnor, because he knew that the group from Mirkwood had rode to the North after leaving Imladris so suddenly.

The ageless Lord of the last Homely House East of the Sea stood up and watched through the large window overlooking the Valley. He had no proof yet, but his instincts told him that Legolas had left the group of Riders heading to Mirkwood, though not by choice. He had hoped that his sons and Glorfindel would stumble upon the young elf somewhere in the foothills of the Misty Mountains, but that had obviously not been the case.

Elrond's sharp elfin eyes could see the three riders trot over the lone path leading into the valley. Even from this distance, his knowledge of the riders and his eyesight were good enough to see that these were three dejected warriors coming home from a failed task. They had not found the Mirkwood Crown Prince, and Elrond could only hope that his instincts were wrong, and that Legolas had found his way safely back to his own home.

Elrond felt all his five-thousand, seven-hundred and forty-five years when he observed the situation he was now in. He feared for the future of his own kingdom, seeing that the actions and events of the last fortnight could very well mean war, something which had not happened since the Kinslaying so very long ago. He feared the news that would come from Mirkwood, or maybe from Lorien, if he knew Galadriel.

Elrond desperately hoped there was nothing wrong with the young Mirkwood Prince, Legolas. The small elf had appeared very shy and quiet from what little Elrond had really seen, but also very naïve, and highly inexperienced in the ways of the word, or of the ways of the elves in general. Elrond had asked himself more than once whether he truly had the ages of both the princes correctly, because Legolas was in every way much more still an elfling than his brother Aerolas, yet he was supposed to be older.


	25. The Ruins Of Fornost

**A/N: Hello everyone!**

**Against expectation (and my own better knowledge, to be honest), here is chapter 25. My apologies for the extreme duration of the wait, I've been grabbed, eaten, swallowed and other digestational verbs by college life. I've written this chapter on and off over the past 5 months, but there has been so much going on (at the same time, mostly) that I haven't been able to find the energy to write anything. I'm not sure about the duration of the wait for the next chapter, since I have no clue how much spare time/energy I'm going to have in the coming months. I'll try and update somewhere before 2014 (I hope).  
**

**In short the past half year: University is awesome, Applied Physics is hard (but awesome), my fraternity is awesome. I've moved out of home (awesome) and get to sleep late everyday (except for colleges, 5 day's a week, because they start early).**

**I want to thank everybody who reviewed, reviews are great to draw the attention of writers who err from the way of writing (things less complicated than maths).**

**I'm hoping you'll enjoy the latest chapter of The Fears of a Prince. **

** Elrond's Scribe: I'm taking a bit of liberty with how elves mature (besides, 50 years is very short to find a mate for forever and ever and ever and ever). Legolas is 906 years old, and elves are typically (mentally, somewhat) mature around 1500 years. They usually don't grow much physically after 900 to 1000 years, so Legolas that's why Legolas is surprised he has grown (though he is a latebloomer, and might continue to grow after his first millennium).**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Chapter 25

* * *

It had been two years since Legolas had come to the Rangers of the North. Ten seasons had passed, since it was summer, since Legolas had met the Rangers, and a bond of friendship had formed between Legolas, and Aranuir specifically.

The old Ranger had taken the young elf under his wing. In the first winter after they had met, Aranuir had been surprised by the cruelty of the things done to his small charge, and the extent of the neglect he had suffered. It had taken the full winter, and half a score of formidable Ranger women, to get a bit of color in the cheeks of the delicate elf, and it had taken even longer than that before he had stopped flinching at sudden movements.

Once that had been done, it had taken almost a full year before the small elf wasn't constantly expecting someone to be angry at him, and to hide at the smallest hint of anger, even if not directed at him. Aranuir had taken the shy elf underneath his wing, sometimes quite literal, when they had stood guard over the Old North Road, the Road North of Bree during one of the autumn storms, but it had mostly been through words of wisdom and shows of care and affection that the older Ranger had drawn the young elf out of his shell.

In his turn, the shy elf had turned out to have remarkable skills in tracking down bands of thieves and criminals, which were most common in the woods surrounding Bree and the Shire, and orcs, trolls and other creatures of evil, deeper in the wilds. Together they had ambushed many scores of orcs, keeping the wilderness clean and away of their foul deeds.

But Legolas had been more than just a fine warrior. From the first moment they had ventured in the wilds, after Legolas had been healed that winter two years ago, the small elf had worked as hard as he could to earn the love of Aranuir, in a completely futile effort, since the old Ranger already had a huge soft spot for the small elf. But nonetheless, Legolas had untiringly gotten wood for fires, stood guard, washed everything that needs washing and scouted around for dangers.

* * *

"Legolas?"

The small elf was startled by the sudden mention of his name. He had been lost in thoughts, watching out over the valley in the Weather Hills he and Aranuir had put up camp for a few days. Looking around, he saw the old Ranger approaching from the direction of their camp.

"You called?" Legolas' face suddenly appeared upside down in front of Aranuir, startling him. Legolas was hanging upside down from a branch of the tree where he had been sitting, looking at Aranuir with a smile that portrayed childish happiness.

"I believe it is time for something to eat."

Without another word, Legolas dropped out of the tree with the usual smooth grace of an elf. He quickly righted himself and joined Aranuir to return to the camp.

"It is good elves live such long lives, or otherwise you would never lose your childishness." Aranuir said with a smile.

In the two years that the small elf had been an honorary Ranger, he had started acting much younger – more like the child he still was. And much akin a human boy of eleven, maybe twelve summers, Legolas took great joy in needless acts of acrobatic or playful nature. When he and Aranuir travelled, the small elf often climbed, swung and jumped from tree to tree, and he had great fun in jumping on stepping stones in a river using only one leg, or climbing in the high trees come spring and look for squirrel nests.

The Legolas of Mirkwood would not have done such things. He was expected to be a prince there, and act like a prince as well – reserved, calm and attentive. Playfulness, or even youthfulness in general, was to be avoided. But now, with a lot of care and attention, and a few of other children around to be playmates and friends during the scarce days they rested, Legolas had become as any child should have been.

To his own great surprise, though most of the Rangers wouldn't have expected anything otherwise, the small elf had grown over the two years. Not much, by human standards, only one thumb-width, but still one thumb-width more than he had expected himself to grow. He still could only reach to Aranuir's chest, but growth was growth, and Legolas was happy with all the length he could get.

Aranuir led the small elf to their campsite in a thicket of trees. They had been steadily making their way East towards Weathertop for the past few weeks, having started just outside the Grey Havens and crossed north of the Shire. After Weathertop, Aranuir knew he should turn north towards Fornost and the North Downs. That place held many bad memories for his people, and the ruined city still brought a pang to his heart everytime he laid eyes on it, but he knew he couldn't let the evils of the wild overrun it.

The Rangers, and specifically their Chieftain, had lived as nomads ever since the fall of Fornost and the destruction of Angmar. They had kept the wilds free of the evil creatures that still resided in Angmar after its fall, slaying orcs, wargs and sometimes even trolls to keep the woods and hills clean. The young ones of the Rangers stayed with their parents in a group, moving from cave to clearing and back throughout the lands North of Bree, but almost all older Rangers lived solitary existences, travelling across the lands on their own. What Aranuir had done with Legolas was quite common between rangers, often the older ones took on a young 'apprentice', or so to speak.

"We shall travel to Weathertop, Legolas, but after that we shall turn northwards." Aranuir spoke as they ate next to the campfire.

"Are we going to Fornost?" The small elf asked softly. He knew Aranuir felt a great loss every time he saw the ruins that remained of the once great capitol of the north.

"We shall. It needs to be cleared from orcs and their ilk."

The shy elf, foregoing a verbal answer, moved closer to Aranuir.

* * *

The ruins of the once-great city of Fornost were as desolate and dreary a place as ever. Close to two-hundred years had passed since it's destruction at the hands of the Witch-King of Angmar, and the Edain who used to venture to the market of Fornost to trade had stopped doing so, calling it Deadman's Dike. Of the old city with its many towers, thick walls and stone buildings, only parts of the wall were still standing. And especially in the dreary summer morning, with fog clouding the entire area, the ravaged ruins provided a deserted, desolate vibe.

"It was once the greatest city of Man this side of the Misty Mountains." Aranuir mumbled solemnly to himself, watching over the ruins of Fornost.

A small elf stood a few steps behind Aranuir, watching the older man lost in memories, stories of the city of kings.

"Let's keep patrol there then." The small elf suggested, although they had travelled to Fornost for exactly that. "To keep the evil things at bay."

"Right you are." Aranuir said after a few moments. "Let's cleanse the city of evil."

* * *

Legolas and Aranuir had searched the entire city for a day, but found no sign of evil other than the teeth of time. They had decided to set up camp in one of the sturdier-looking buildings that were still standing. From what they had found, it had been a brewery once, but of course everything edible or drinkable was gone now, plundered by the orcs and other foul beasts during the time Fornost was occupied by the Witch King.

Inside the thick walls of the brewery, where Aranuir had miraculously found a spare wooden door underneath a mountain of pieces of wood that used to be vats for beer and other drinks, a cozy little camp had been set up. There was a fire pit in the center of the room, where Legolas and Aranuir had set up a small fire. The fire and the closed environment gave a sense of security that Rangers hardly ever had, a safe place to sleep.

Legolas had taken up his usual position, burrowed in Aranuir's side. The small elf enjoyed these scarce moments of safety, and usually spent them close to Aranuir, either leaning on the older man or burrowing in his side, relaxing and drowsing away to the point of sleeping. Like an Edain-child half of his physical age, one of Legolas' hands was always clinging to Aranuir's cloak.

The older Ranger enjoyed these moments of safety too, often cradling the small elf in his arms. He sometimes told stories of his youth, or hummed songs of times past.

"Legolas." Aranuir said softly, rousing the small elf from his almost-slumber. "Will you tell me about your past?"

The small elf looked up from under Aranuir's arm, his blue eyes big and scared, pleading to not bring up the bad memories.

"Please, Legolas. I know it hurts, but you must once deal with them. Otherwise they will forever come back to haunt you. You know I won't judge you, whatever you say, and there are no others to eavesdrop."

The frail elf carefully crawled out of Aranuir's embrace, and sat down, hugging his knees.

"I'm sorry." Legolas said softly.

"Please Legolas. I know it hurts you, but we've come so far already in the time you've been with us. You'll have to tell it sometime, otherwise it'll never let you go."

The delicate elf let out a sniffle and a lone tear fell from his eyes. But before Aranuir could envelop him in a hug and apologize, Legolas began to speak.

"I… I think I was bad in battle…" Legolas said softly. "And that that made me a bad elf."

Aranuir softly drew the small elf towards him, cradling the shy boy close to him. "Don't ever think you're bad in fighting, Legolas. I've seen you hit targets with a bow that my own best archers can't even see. And don't think that's just outside of battle, I've seen you do the same in battle too. Just because you're not as talented with big swords as many, doesn't make you a worthless warrior."

The small elf, trembling softly, looked up at his older companion at his kind words. "But.. but I'm useless when the enemies are too close to use a bow. If I'm too slow to get away in time, I'm just a liability to others."

"If you reason that way, everyone is a liability to everyone else. No one is invincible, Legolas, everyone, even the most skilled Elves, can get hurt by enemies. But that doesn't make them a bad warrior."

"B.. But…" Legolas faltered.

"Besides, I've seen you fight in more than your fair share of battles, and I don't think anyone can claim you're a bad warrior. Anyone who tries is nothing more than a fool."

The small elf looked down at Aranuir's words.

"But… I'm not just bad at fighting. I'm a coward too." The small elf confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"I… I'm afraid of silly and stupid things like storms and loud noises too. A.. And I always hid underneath my bed when I was scared, and I cried too much and was too much of a weakling to do anything useful and I was too afraid to say anything back and.. and.." Legolas erupted into tears, flinching, still expecting be hit.

Aranuir strengthened his hold on the frail shoulders of his small charge. "You're not worthless, and being afraid isn't something you can exactly be punished for, Legolas. Nor is it something you should be punished for, no matter how dumb you think your fear is."

"Besides," Aranuir continued, "There are a lot of things that you have good reason to be afraid of in battle. Vile creatures are not things to be ignored in terms of danger, Legolas. A hundred orcs can kill you even if you are the greatest archer that ever lived, or the greatest swordsman, if they kill you in your sleep. There's a good reason that even the most experienced warriors are frightened of orcs and their ilk."

Aranuir stared into the fire, mood suddenly solemn. "If anything, as you'll get older, you'll see more and more of the damage done by foul creatures without even being there. Orcs destroy more than just your own life and limbs. What good is the best warrior in the world if there's no home to return to, no friends or family, nothing to consider yours? That is the true evil of those foul creatures, they can destroy you without killing you."

Legolas had watched Aranuir speak those words with confusion and growing fear, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. When Aranuir stopped, the small elf let his head drop and let the older man lose himself into thoughts.


End file.
